Imaginary
by sharim
Summary: When Mulder and Scully investigate fertility clinics against orders something miraculous is found, but is it a coincidence or a darker conspiracy. Mytharc. MSR. FINISHED
1. Chapter 1

Imaginary

**SEASON:** 6

**RATING:** Strong R

**SPOILERS:** Anything up to and including season 8 is fair game. Anything involving mytharc has probably been hunted, skinned, cooked and eaten already ;) However, it is set from shortly after How the Ghosts Stole Christmas.

**SUMMARY:** This, Scully thought as she watched him, this changed everything. This was everything.

**NOTES:** I have taken HUGE liberties with the timeline and mytharc– but given the show's general run toward inconsistency, I don't think that really matters anyway! This story begins shortly after How the Ghosts Stole Christmas – probably early January. From there, I've cut and pasted and sewed the episodes of Season 6 (and a few other seasons) together to twist this fic into existence.

In this reality, Mulder isn't colour blind. I think it's a waste to have him unable to appreciate Scully's hair. A most unfortunate plot device – one of many unfortunate plot devices -P

More notes at the end.

* * *

_Because it is personal, Mulder. Because without the FBI personal interest is all that I have. And if you take that away then there is no reason for me to continue. _

* * *

**  
Prologue**

From the outside, the small cathedral looked exactly as he remembered it – dark and regal with a sweeping roof and intricate architecture. A fenced cemetery to the side was bordered by thorny rose bushes and falling leaves. Mulder followed the fence until he found a small white gate that swung open on soundless hinges when he touched it. He could see her in the distance, her red head bowed and shoulders dropped with grief.

It started to rain, a soft drizzle that hardly did more than stick to his skin and tickle his eyelashes.

"Scully?"

She spun around quickly, stunned to see him striding toward her.

"How did you find me?" she demanded when he was close enough to see the slight smudging of wet mascara under her eyes.

"I guessed," he admitted. "What's going on?"

She stared at him, silent, her eyes as grey and indecisive as the tumultuous clouds in the sky above them, unsure of whether to thunder and rage or spill apart in a flood.

"Scully?" he pressed gently, stepping toward her. She turned from him and looked toward the grave she was standing in front of.

The thick smell of dirt mixed with the soft drizzle – she was standing at a new grave. His gaze settled on the small headstone: David Headley. Four years old.

He didn't look at her when she spoke. "There are more of them, Mulder," she whispered softly. Above them the thunder growled and charged across the sky, chasing lightning bolts that skittered over the clouds. But still the clouds hung, oppressive, only the misty drizzle escaping to the earth.

He stood beside her and waited, staring at the grave as her words rolled through his body with the raw power of thunder.

More of them.

**1.**

_I linger in the doorway  
Of alarm clock screaming  
Monsters calling my name  
Let me stay  
Where the wind will whisper to me  
Where the raindrops  
As they're falling tell a story_

"I thought you'd have stayed with your brother," Mulder commented idly, loosening his tie with one hand and dropping his overnight bag onto the foot of her bed.

Scully felt her lips tug in a rueful half smile at his words. "It's easier not to," she offered by way of explanation. She sighed, blowing the air out between her lips and running a hand through her rain dampened hair, wincing as her fingers caught in several tangles.

"What are we doing here, Scully?" Mulder asked.

"I left you a message," she said, turning to stare through the window. "I didn't tell you to come here."

"You leave a cryptic message on my answering machine telling me not to worry, and what am I supposed to do?" he responded.

"Not worry?" she suggested, raising her eyebrows at her reflection in the glass. Outside the rain thundered down, a sheet of water distorting her perception of what lay beyond the glass.

"I have to be back at the Bureau bright and early Monday morning," he said, ignoring her words. "Kersh wouldn't let me have leave – suggested there was an ulterior motive in me requesting leave the same time you requested it."

"Mulder-"

"And then said he hoped we weren't doing anything against express orders, such as working on anything related to the X Files. Is that what we're doing here, Scully?"

She sighed. "I don't know what we're doing here, Mulder," she admitted, turning to face him. "I found some papers on my desk yesterday morning. A file with photos and names."

"Of who?"

Unbidden the pictures flashed before her. "Children," she said. Children with innocent blue eyes and freckles and strawberry blond hair.

He sucked his breath in with a hiss she heard from the opposite side of the room. "Like Emily?" he asked.

She nodded. "They're dead, Mulder. All three of them. Died of a rare autoimmune disease that's not entirely understood."

"Jesus, Scully," he breathed.

"I'm okay, Mulder," she said, anticipating his question. She offered him a slight smile to prove it.

"Are you?" he asked gently.

"I am," she repeated. "But I want it to end. I don't want them to do what they've done to any more children, Mulder."

He nodded, frowning, and she could see his mind working as the expression in his eyes flickered and changed. "You said there were names in the file," he remembered.

"The same clinic where Emily was treated. A different doctor though. I'll get the file."

"Have you spoken to this doctor yet?" Mulder asked.

"No, I spent yesterday afternoon finding the children's families. And this morning I went… I went to see Emily, and David was buried at the same cemetery," she said, her fingers curling around the file and pulling it from her bag. "Here."

He flicked through it quickly, and then shut it when he looked up at her. "This is going to take longer than a day and a half, Scully," he said, meeting her gaze.

"That's why I requested leave."

"I can't get leave," he said in frustration. "Where did you get this file?"

"I told you, I found it on my desk. Someone left it for me, Mulder, I don't know who."

"I wonder who it was," Mulder said, "and why."

Scully nodded, relieved to move the topic away from the children. "I'm worried about it," she admitted. "Not knowing who sent me that information, and why they want me to have it. It makes me suspicious."

"Do you think it's a set up?" Mulder asked.

Scully shrugged. "Well, if Kersh really did warn you about getting involved in any cases… it could be," she pointed out.

Mulder flicked absently through the file again. "What were your plans for the rest of the day, seeing as it's still early?"

"Go to the clinic, see if we can find this doctor," Scully said.

Mulder nodded. "I'll book myself a room, and then we can go."

* * *

Transgen Pharmaceuticals had changed very little in the year since Scully had been there. The immaculate lawns were still as green and lush as they had been the first day she saw them, despite the middle of winter chill and heavy downpour. Inside, the simple elegance screamed big funding and success, but in the black marble Scully saw only the crimes committed by men. 

"Agent Scully, Agent Mulder," Doctor Markham greeted, rising to his feet and motioning towards two leather chair in front of his desk. "Please, take a seat. How can I help you?"

With greater care than she normally used, Scully placed the pictures of three children on his desk, pushing them toward the doctor. "Do you know these children, Doctor Markham?" she asked.

He looked at the pictures briefly, and then met her gaze steadily. His eyes were brown, a deep rich chocolate that looked far too warm for a man involved in experiments on children. "David Headley, Anna Lucas and Thomas Little," he said. "They were patients of mine up until recently."

"What happened to them?" Mulder asked.

"They suffered from a rare blood disease," Markham explained. "They all passed away fairly recently."

"That's strange, don't you think?" Scully murmured.

"What is?" Markham asked, frowning.

"That they'd all die so soon after one another."

"This disease is still largely not understood, Agent Scully," Markham said. "Patients very rarely live to be older than four to five years of age. It is also more likely that death will occur during winter, given the cold and the weakness of these children's bodies. I don't find it strange that they all passed away around this time of year."

Scully nodded. "Are there any other children at your clinic currently undergoing treatment for this disease?"

"No, Agent Scully. As I said, it's an extremely rare disease. I was fortunate the families were willing to move to San Diego for the research program we're running here."

"I spoke to their families yesterday," Scully commented, sitting back in her chair. "Were you aware that all three children were adopted?"

"Yes, I was."

"Don't you find that co-incidence rather odd as well?"

"Agent Scully, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly is it that you're investigating?" Markham asked coldly.

"The deaths of these children, Doctor Markham."

"Their deaths were a natural result of their disease. There is no mystery as to how those children died."

"Maybe not, Doctor Markham," Scully agreed, rising to her feet. "But I'd like to have a look at their medical files none the less."

Markham rose to his feet, the chocolate of his eyes cold and hard now. "I can't give those to you without consent from the families, Agent Scully," Markham said. "You'll have to get that first, and then I can give them to you."

"Already done," Scully said, producing the paperwork. "I told you, I saw them yesterday."

Markham nodded stiffly. "I'll have my secretary get the files for you."

* * *

It was raining again, the droplets splattering heavily on the windshield as Mulder negotiated the Taurus through the Saturday afternoon traffic. 

"Anything?" he asked as she shut the files on her lap and let her gaze drift to the road ahead.

"No, these files are clean," she said, sighing. "We knew they would be. I ran a search on Markham and the other names last night, but I couldn't find anything on them."

"I called the Gunmen," Mulder said, "told them what we'd found. They'll run a check on them as well, and call me tonight."

"I don't see what the reasoning behind sending me that file was," Scully said. "Why let me know of three more children who have all died, and give me the names of their doctor? What are we supposed to find?"

The ringing of Mulder's cell phone interrupted them before Mulder could answer. "Want me to get that?" Scully asked.

"Yeah," Mulder agreed. "It might be Frohike."

Scully pulled his coat onto her lap from the back seat, fished his phone out of a pocket and answered it.

"Who is this?" a familiar voice asked.

Scully felt her stomach drop. "Agent Scully, sir."

"Agent Scully," Kersh said slowly. "Why are you answering Agent Mulder's phone?"

"Because he's driving, sir," Scully explained, closing her eyes.

"Where are you?"

"San Diego."

"I was under the impression that you were on vacation, Agent Scully," Kersh commented.

"Yes sir, I am."

"Then why are you and Agent Mulder running a supposed FBI investigation into the deaths of three children in San Diego?"

Scully swallowed and didn't answer.

"Consider you vacation over, Agent Scully. I want you and Agent Mulder back in DC and in my office tomorrow morning first thing."

"Yes, sir," Scully said, the soft beeping of a disconnected call her only response.

"That didn't sound good," Mulder said.

"It was Kersh. He wants us back in DC by tomorrow morning."

Mulder cursed loudly, slamming his hands on the wheel in frustration.

"What are we going to do?" Scully asked, looking at him.

"Go back," he said.

"But-"

"You said it yourself, Scully, we have nothing here at the moment. Maybe if Frohike and the boys dig up something on Markham or his associates we can push this further, but three dead children is no proof of anything. We'd throw our careers away for nothing if we ignored Kersh now, Scully."

"Since when do you care about your career?" Scully demanded.

"It's not just my career I'm worried about, Scully," he returned. "It's your career as well. If we throw everything away now it's a waste. Let's wait until we have something more concrete before we do anything."

She wanted to argue with him. She wanted to tell him that her career wasn't that important. She wanted to tell him that she didn't care about the FBI anymore, and her employment there meant nothing anymore. She wanted to tell him all that mattered was finding the truth. Her truth. About what had happened to her and her children.

Her children.

The thought solidified around her, dark and heavy, and suddenly she wasn't okay.

The children were real. She might not have seen them or touched them or heard them, but they were still hers. Her flesh. Her blood. Her pain.

Stolen from her. Like Emily.

The pain was sharp and sudden. Rather than betray it to Mulder she remained silent and let him drive her back to the motel.

* * *

Thanks for reading. As soon as the next couple of parts come back from the beta's, I'll post them. I promise, this fic **is **actually finished! 


	2. Chapter 2

**Imaginary**

**2.**

He was tired; a bone aching tiredness that had little to do with the length of the day and everything to do with the woman beside him. Sitting to his right with her delicate fingers curled around the arm rest of the red eye flight, she looked beaten. Dark smudges had appeared under her eyes almost over night. A tension around her lips which had recently been absent reminded him of a time months ago when all they could see was the bleakness and despair of death and conspiracies.

Funny how a few weeks away from the paranoid shadow chasing had lightened her eyes and softened her lips into a smile, he mused. It wasn't just her, he realised, he'd been happier as well. Life had become lighter since they'd been put off the X Files, and he found himself surprised by the revelation. They'd smiled more, and played around more. He almost felt guilty about enjoying life without the X Files.

Did he really want to watch Scully become the thin woman who wore black suits and shadowed eyes while she investigated this truth that cut so close to home?

Mulder sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the chair. Next to him Scully moved on her seat, the arm of her suit jacket brushing against his hand for a second, and then she settled again.

"I think you were right," Scully said.

"About what?" he asked, opening his eyes to look at her.

"The file being a set up," she said. "We found nothing, Mulder. Just a few coincidences and three children who we don't even know for sure are mine."

"What purpose could it serve though?" Mulder questioned.

"Kersh called us less than ten minutes after we left Transgen Pharmaceuticals, Mulder," she pointed out. "How did it through to him so quickly?"

"You're right," he said.

"They want us out of the Bureau, and I think we just handed them the ace to use against us," she said tiredly.

"Do you think they will?" he asked, surprised by how little it concerned him.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I'm just speculating and letting my imagination run."

"It's within the realm of possibility," he said.

"Yes."

Mulder sighed, closing his eyes again. "I guess we find out tomorrow morning."

Scully didn't respond, and Mulder let himself doze, catching up on several missed hours of sleep.

* * *

After a fifteen minute wait on Kersh's leather chairs they were let in to see the Deputy Director. The large office was uncomfortably warm for Mulder's liking, but he didn't attempt to take his coat off. Instead, he guided Scully over to a chair before taking one himself.

"You wanted to see us, sir?" Scully asked, the picture of civil politeness as she addressed Kersh.

"Is there anything either of you agents would like to tell me before we begin?" Kersh asked.

Kersh remained silent, and Mulder met the stony gaze easily, wistfully wondering what it would take to make Kersh lose the calm smirk of superiority that always stained his smile. "No, sir," Mulder said blandly.

"Then explain to me, Agent, why you deliberately ignored an order I gave you, and have involved yourself in a supposed investigation? I also remember denying your request for leave yesterday morning."

"I accepted your denial for my leave of absence, sir, and haven't done anything to disregard that," Mulder pointed out.

"You were in San Diego," Kersh said.

"Is there a law that says I have to spend my weekend in DC?" Mulder asked innocently. "I had a return flight booked for this afternoon, sir."

"What were you doing in San Diego?" Kersh asked.

"It's my weekend. I don't think I have to inform the Bureau of everything I do on my weekend."

"You do when you use your weekend to investigate research clinics for apparent crimes which were not committed."

Mulder didn't respond, his gaze not faltering as Kersh stared at him.

Kersh pursed his lips and touched the tips of his fingers together as he leant back in his chair, letting his scrutiny turn to Scully who had thus far remained silent in her chair. "Tell me, Agent Scully, is it usual for an Agent on vacation to look up the families of dead children and question them about the medical treatment their child received?"

Scully swallowed, but her gaze was strong. "No sir, it's not."

"You are aware of the orders given to you and Agent Mulder. Orders expressly given to prevent you from investigating cases pertaining to the X Files."

"You just said there wasn't a case," Mulder interrupted.

"I am not a fool, Agent Mulder," Kersh said coldly. "I am aware of the case you and Agent Scully opened against the research clinic in 1998. The similarity of this situation is suggesting to me that perhaps you and Agent Scully feel there is an X File here, and took it upon yourselves to investigate. If there is anything you feel requires investigation, we already have an X Files unit. It is not your place or responsibility to involve yourselves with the investigation."

Mulder clenched his jaw, but didn't argue.

"I'm finding it very hard to justify keeping the two of you on the Bureau's payroll," Kersh continued. "This is not the first time you have disregarded my orders, and I'm certain it won't be the last."

The silence stretched in the room, thick and sticky like tar. Mulder glanced over at Scully, observing the impassive mask of her face and the defiant clench of her jaw.

"I can't let this go without reprimand," Kersh said finally, drawing Mulder's attention back to him. "Agent Scully, you can count your two week vacation as an unpaid suspension from all duties. Agent Mulder, you can have that vacation now, on the same condition as Agent Scully. I'll need your guns and badges."

Mulder was tempted to ask if Kersh wanted the name plate from his desk as well, but a gentle nudge from Scully's elbow stopped him. He placed his gun and badge next to Scully's on Kersh's desk and stepped back. "Will that be all, Deputy Director?" he asked politely.

"Yes," Kersh said, nodding. "I'll see you in two weeks, Agents. And let me warn you, if I hear even the tiniest whisper of your disregarding my orders to stay out of the X Files, you will both be out on the street before you can blink. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, sir," Scully said softly.

"Good. You may go."

* * *

"Well, it could have been worse," Mulder commented as he pulled to a stop outside Scully's apartment.

She raised her eyebrows at him, her hand hovering over the release of her seat belt. She sighed then, leaning back against her seat for a second before a rueful smile crossed her lips. "I'm sorry, Mulder," she said. "If I'd taken the time to think about the implications of that file, I would never have just rushed off like that. It was irrational and very stupid of me."

"Yes," Mulder said solemnly, "it was."

"I feel like an idiot," she said. "I was played. I'm not exactly sure how or why, but I was. I was expecting us to find ourselves jobless this morning."

"Me too," Mulder said, frowning. "I wonder why we're not. If that was the aim of setting us up, it doesn't make sense for us to still be employed."

She ignored his theorising. "If I got you fired it would have thrown everything you've worked for away."

"You worked for it too, Scully. You were chasing the truth in San Diego, and that's what we both want."

"But it was my truth, Mulder, not yours. It was personal."

Mulder smiled. "It is personal, Scully," he said. "If it wasn't personal, what else would it be? You said it yourself a few weeks ago."

She frowned, staring at him.

"Go to bed, Scully," he said. "You had a long weekend and the flight last night."

She nodded. "You too, Mulder."

When she waved goodbye and disappeared into the apartment building, Mulder drove away, wondering whether even 'personal' made it worth it anymore.

* * *

He pulled into his parking space gratefully, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the steering wheel for several seconds. He was tired. Two red eye flights, an uncomfortable motel bed and worrying about the case – or lack of one – added up to one tired Fox Mulder. A wry chuckle escaped: he was getting too old for this sort of crap.

He dragged himself out of his car, shivering at the bitter blast of wind running through the parked cars, and found himself longing for San Diego which had proved to be marginally warmer than DC.

Inside the car he heard his cell phone ringing. He retrieved both coat and phone, pulling his coat on as he answered the call.

"We found something, Mulder," Byers said, barely contained excitement lacing his voice.

"What did you find?"

"Doctor Markham is tied to several fertility programs and obstetricians, including Zeus Genetics and Parenti Medical Group right here in DC."

Mulder froze. "Say that again."

"Which part?" Byers asked.

"The part about Zeus Genetics and Parenti Medical Group."

"Dr. Markham is tied to those clinics."

"Can you get me any more information on them?" Mulder asked, swallowing.

"Anything in particular?"

"Doctor Parenti himself," Mulder said.

"Do you know him, Mulder?"

"Yes. He was Scully's doctor."

"Mulder, he's an obstetrician," Byers pointed out.

"I know that. Look into it for me, okay? And see if Parenti is linked to Transgen Pharmaceuticals in any manner at all."

"What's going on, Mulder?" Byers asked.

"I think Scully and I were wrong," Mulder murmured.

Byers sighed. "I'll call you if we find anything."

Mulder hung up and bit his lip, pausing for a second. With a growl of anger he kicked at the tires of his car, ignoring the jolt of pain that travelled up his leg at the contact. Bile clogged his throat, and he rested both hands on the hood of his car, swallowing roughly until it receded.

What, he thought bleakly, what had Scully done to deserve what these men were doing to her, and why her? Because she worked with him, he wondered? Because they wouldn't let go, even when they made it abundantly clear they wanted both her and Mulder away from the X Files? Was it punishment for their search? Meant to deter them?

The question that concerned him the most, however, was whether or not to tell Scully about the possible involvement of Parenti Medical Group.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks for being so patient in waiting for the remainder of this fic. I hope you enjoy it, and stick around until I've posted everything. _

**3.**

Scully stared at her living room and sighed. She really should use some of this 'free time' and catch up on some of the cleaning she'd been neglecting, and maybe a bit of redecorating. After all, she had to do something with her time, right? She sighed again, running a hand through her hair.

She was bored. Chores and errands had to be done, but she felt no motivation or desire to do them. When the phone rang, she jumped at the excuse to avoid her housework and answered it on the second ring.

"It's me, Scully."

"Mulder."

"Did I wake you?"

"Since when do you worry about that?" she asked pointedly.

"You were tired, I didn't want to disturb you."

She chuckled, confused by the logic Mulder employed to reach the conclusion, but oddly touched by his concern. "I've been up for hours already."

"Do I detect a touch of frustration?" he questioned.

"Possibly."

"Good. You can out your cabin fever by taking a ride with me."

"A ride?" she asked.

"Yes. Some sightseeing. Appreciate our country a bit more."

"Mulder, are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine, Scully. What do you say?"

"I don't know," she hedged, looking guiltily around her apartment. Since when did Mulder like sightseeing anyway?

"It's not like you have to do anything today," he pointed out.

She sighed. "What time?"

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. Dress warmly, Scully, we're going hiking."

She stared at the phone in her hand, suspicious. Hiking? Mulder? She'd bet her bottom dollar this had nothing to do with sightseeing and everything to do with investigating.

* * *

"So, you didn't say where we were going," Scully commented as she settled herself into the passenger seat.

"No, I didn't," Mulder agreed casually.

"Mulder?" Scully pressed.

"Virginia."

"Why Virginia?"

"Because Quinnimont is in Virginia."

"And what are we going to do in Quinnimont?" Scully asked, getting irritated with the game.

"Visit the train yards."

She glanced across at him sharply. "You know something."

"No," he said, avoiding her gaze by keeping his eyes on the road in front of him, "not exactly."

"Not exactly?" she repeated.

"It's a theory," he admitted. "We know they were doing something on the train lines and are probably still using them for transportation. The Gunmen think there's a link between some clinics in DC and San Diego, so they would need a method of transport between DC and San Diego."

"What makes you so sure they're using the train yards in Quinnimont again?" Scully asked.

"I'm not," he shrugged. "That's what we're going to investigate."

Scully sighed. "Even if you're right, Mulder, they could use any train yard in Virginia. They're not necessarily using the one in Quinnimont."

"But we know they were there," Mulder returned. "It's worth a look, Scully, who knows what we might find."

"What about the clinics in DC? Shouldn't we be looking into them?"

"The Gunmen are already doing that," Mulder said, "so I thought we'd look into how they're connected. I think they're the ones creating the children, and transporting them to San Diego where the remainder of the experiments are carried out."

Scully was silent, contemplating this theory. "What makes you so sure about that?"

"The link between clinics in DC and San Diego."

"Any names yet?"

"Zeus Genetics," Mulder said.

"What field?"

"Fertility and birth defects," Mulder supplied.

Scully nodded, closing her eyes. "I went to their offices," she admitted, "but I preferred Parenti."

Mulder was silent in the seat next to her, the sudden tension between them uncomfortable. Scully swallowed, licked her lips, and opened her eyes to gaze out of the windows, pretending to admire the snow covered scenery.

* * *

"What are we looking for?" Scully asked, her heavy hiking boots squelching in the mud and snow underfoot.

Mulder shrugged his shoulders, looking around. "I don't know, Scully. The line they used last time was there," he pointed ahead of them to where several men were working on an engine, their clothes dirty with mud and oil and their cheeks red with cold.

"I don't envy them at all," Scully said. "Don't they have sheds to do manual work in when the weather is this bad?"

Mulder shrugged, looking around.

"This isn't going to work, Mulder," Scully said, touching his arm. He stepped away from her, ignoring her words and moved toward a boxcar standing alone on the tracks. "Mulder!" she called in frustration, trying to jog through the snow to catch up to him.

"I thought you wanted to expose them," he said when she caught up, his face impassive but his eyes flickering with something she couldn't decipher. "I thought you wanted this to end, Scully."

"I do," she said. "I do, Mulder, but this isn't going to prove anything."

His opened his mouth to say something, but shut it wordlessly.

"What's wrong, Mulder?" she asked, frowning.

"Nothing. I'm going to look at this boxcar."

She watched him stalk away through the muddy yard, not looking back at her. Sometimes she understood Mulder perfectly. She knew the way his mind worked, the way he'd blame himself or feel about things. But there were parts of him which she had no idea how to interpret, and she had touched that area with her comment about the IVF. He hadn't wanted it to come between them, she thought tiredly, but it had. It had taken them months to recover from the failed attempt; almost a year before things were comfortable between them again.

Scully swallowed, closing her eyes and feeling the bitter breeze as it caressed her skin.

Damn him for letting it come between them. Damn her for bringing it up now, when the wounds were still raw and the feelings still so confusing. Damn him for being so selfish and pushing her away.

She turned and walked back to the car, wishing she'd had the foresight to take the keys from him before letting him go exploring alone.

* * *

She was sick of Mulder. Her irritation with him at the train yards hadn't diminished in his company. Instead, it had increased when he'd offered no word of apology or admitted that it had been a wild goose chase to begin with. Now she was driven to distraction by his inability to sit still for a second. There was a familiar crunching noise next to her, and Scully ground her teeth in frustration.

"Do you have to eat those?" she demanded curtly, conveniently forgetting that it was his car. She speared him with a quick sidelong glance before focusing her attention back on the road.

"I'm not spitting the shells in the car, Scully," he said reasonably. A cold blast of air buffeted her cheek as he wound the window down to throw the empty shell out, and then died when he rolled it shut again. Seconds later she heard another crunch.

"Mulder," she warned, too irritated to care that her voice sounded like a low growl in the bottom of her throat.

"Do you have to tap like that?" he responded snidely.

She stilled her fingers against the wheel instantly and clenched her fist against it in frustration.

Crunch.

Thirty seconds later she pulled over on the side of the road and got out, leaving him sitting in his damn car chewing his damn seeds and smirking his damn smirk.

Outside the air was bitterly cold, and she thought longingly of her jacket lying across the backseat of Mulder's car. But she'd be damned if she walked back to the car before he got out and apologised to her.

Watching her breath condense in front of her face she stalked angrily through the fringe of trees decorating the side of the road. Underfoot the ground was a sludgy milkshake of half melted snow and thick mud that caked against her nostrils and stained her boots.

When she finally stopped walking her fingers were blue and her nose was dripping steadily. She swiped at it angrily, surprised by the wet warmth she encountered with her fingers. Pulling her fingers from her nose to wipe them on the black denim of her jeans, she froze, staring. Against the grey backdrop of sludge and snow, bordered by the dark brown bark of the trees, the blood on her fingers was vivid. Her nose was bleeding; she could feel the steady trickle as it dripped like warm molasses and mixed into the sludge at her feet.

Oh God, no. No. Anything but this.

Scully closed her eyes and prayed to a God she thought she'd abandoned.

* * *

_In my field of paper flowers  
__And candy clouds of lullayby  
__I lie inside myself for hours  
__And watch my purple sky fly over me_

* * *

Mulder didn't come looking for her. When she finally got back to the car, subdued and repentant, he was still sitting in the same seat with the same smirk on his face, still chewing the damn seeds and spitting them out the window onto the small mountain he was building.

Suddenly she felt like crying.

Unobtrusively she checked her reflection against the window, hoping there was no trace of blood left on her face and no trace of fear left in her eyes.

When she opened her door and slid back behind the wheel, Mulder shut his window and re-buckled himself in. "Okay?" he asked.

"Okay," she lied, not meeting his gaze as she started the car.

She knew he was watching her as she pulled back on to the icy road, his gaze not leaving her face for several minutes until he seemed to accept she wasn't willing to talk. Only then did she reach up and pretend to readjust the rear-view mirror, double checking her reflection. There was no sign of the blood.

* * *

_Feedback would be loved and adored; it's nice to know people actually read what you write._


	4. Chapter 4

From here on in the R rating comes into play.

**4.**

He hated lying to Scully. It created tension and mistrust, and he couldn't afford to lose Scully's trust. He'd been aware of her irritation at the train yards. The tension in her body when she looked at him that told him clearly things weren't right between them.

Trying to glance unobtrusively at Scully, Mulder rolled up his packet of seeds and pushed it back into the glove box – antagonising Scully had not caused her to snap and argue with him as he'd been hoping. In arguments with Scully things had a tendency to slip out, and he'd half hoped she'd get the information about Parenti Medical Group out of him by arguing.

How was he supposed to react when she said she was happy she chose Parenti and not Zeus Genetics, because Zeus was involved with Transgen Pharmaceuticals? How was he supposed to tell her that Parenti might also be involved? That Parenti was probably the one creating the children, while Zeus Genetics were simply dealing with the foetuses which didn't come to term? That Parenti had probably been the one to create Emily and the others, but had been unable to give her a normal, healthy baby.

Mulder bit back a sigh, gazing out of the window. The sun was starting to set already, turning the snow orange and yellow as it sank behind the horizon.

"Sorry for wasting your time," he said softly.

She glanced at him sharply, before looking back at the winding road. "It's not like I had anything better to do," she said.

Silence settled between them. It was thick and slightly uncomfortable, but Mulder felt more relaxed and comfortable than he had before.

"Scully, can I ask you something?"

She pursed her lips together after flicking him another glance, turning the head lights on at the same time. "Okay," she said hesitantly.

"Do you regret it?"

"Regret what, Mulder?" she asked.

"Trying for a baby."

"No," she said simply. "I regret not having a baby, and I regret that it was my last chance, but I don't regret trying, Mulder. Not ever."

They settled into silence again, until she broke it. "What made you ask that?"

He sighed. "I don't know. We never spoke about it, and then Emily… I just wanted to know."

"Mulder, I don't regret asking you," she murmured, her voice almost lost beneath the hum of the tires on the road. "Do you regret agreeing?"

"It came between us, Scully," he said finally. "Not in a big way, but it was there despite our attempts to not let it come between us."

"If it had worked," Scully started, "would it have come between us?"

Mulder shrugged. "I don't know. I guess we didn't really talk about what would happen if it did work."

She chuckled ruefully. "We don't talk about a lot of stuff, do we Mulder?"

"No," he agreed. "We don't."

It was there, bubbling under the surface, the little voice nudging him to tell her about Parenti. But he squashed it, unwilling to be the one to tear the fragile threads of communication they were starting to weave. Unwilling to be the one to open up a whole new set of hurts and revelations for Scully.

* * *

She'd invited him in for coffee, but he'd refused, wise enough to realise that they'd had enough personal revelation and conversation for one day. Better to put some distance between them and let them get comfortable with the discussion about the IVF.

And, Mulder thought, because each time he looked at her he felt the guilt of lying to her stab at him until he was sure she could read it in his eyes that. Every sentence had been second guessed, and every remark she made had caused him to wonder if she suspected him yet.

No, distance between them was purely for selfish reasons, he thought with resignation as he pushed his key into his lock and stepped into his apartment. He reached for his gun automatically when he saw someone move, forgetting he didn't have it, before he realised who it was.

"Jesus, Langly!" he exploded, his heart hammering in his chest. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Where the hell have you been, Mulder!" Frohike demanded as he stepped into view. "We've been trying to call you all day!"

Mulder found his phone in his pocket as he answered. "Virginia."

"Why weren't you answering your phone?" Frohike snapped. "Never mind. We found something."

"What?" Mulder demanded, glancing in disgust at the battery dead phone before tossing it onto the small stand next to his door.

"You'd better see this for yourself, G-man," Frohike muttered. "We called Scully – she's already on her way over here."

"Frohike, what the hell is going on?" Mulder demanded, following Frohike through his apartment.

"I'm showing you what we found, Mulder, and can I just say that we're very disappointed you've been holding out on us."

Mulder frowned. "I don't understand, Frohike."

He was surprised to see Byers sitting awkwardly on his bed, clutching an armful of material. "Byers?"

"Mulder! We were getting worried!" Byers said, moving to his feet.

Mulder stared at the bundle in Byers' arms. "What's this?" he demanded.

"Not what," Frohike corrected pertly, "who."

"Who?"

"Yes, who," Frohike said. "Like I said, I'm disappointed you held out on us."

Mulder looked around in confusion. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. What the hell is going on here?"

"This is your son," Byers said simply, thrusting the bundle toward Mulder.

"My what?"

"Your son," Byers said impatiently. "Do you want to take him or not? I've been holding him for what feels like hours because he won't stop crying if we put him down."

"This is what we found," Frohike said triumphantly.

Mulder stared dumbly at the baby in the blanket. His son? They'd found his son? He had a son?

"I don't understand," Mulder said slowly. "I don't have a son."

"You do," Byers smiled for the first time, his eyes softening as he looked down at the baby still in his arms. "I don't know what's happening between you and Scully because your relationship isn't my business, but this baby is yours and Scully's. Your sperm, her ova. On record. Frohike is getting the PCRs done as we speak – but we're all positive this is your son."

As if on cue, the baby opened his eyes and wriggled in the blanket, dusty blue irises staring up sleepily at Mulder. Mulder watched in silent fascination as he seemed to consider his new surroundings. In slow motion the little face turned red, eyes got lost between wrinkles of skin and a little mouth opened, a gusty wail erupting from somewhere deep inside.

"Dinner time," Byers said dryly. "You can do this now, Mulder, seeing as he's your kid."

Mulder stood frozen when Byers pressed the baby into his arms. "What? Byers?" he said helplessly, staring at the crying infant.

"There's formula and nappies and everything else Langly decided a baby needs in that bag," Byers said, pointing.

"I don't know how to feed a baby!" Mulder protested.

"And you think we do?" Frohike retorted. "This is your kid, Mulder, and we've been babysitting long enough."

"Give him a bottle before he explodes, Mulder. Trust me, when he does, it's very smelly," Byers advised.

Mulder jiggled the squalling infant awkwardly in his arms, looking helplessly at the two gunmen watching him expectantly. Byers sighed, clucking his tongue. "You have to hold him properly, Mulder," he said. "Frohike, get one of the bottles from the bag please."

"What am I, your maid servant?" Frohike grumbled, glaring at Byers but retrieving the bottle as asked.

The sound of voices carried through to them, and as Frohike turned to give the bottle to Byers Scully and Langly burst through the bedroom door. Scully's mouth dropped open and she stared, at Mulder awkwardly clutched the screaming child in his arms.

"We might just take a walk," Frohike said, jamming the bottle in his pocket and disappearing out the door. The other two gunmen almost tripped over each other to get out the door behind him, leaving Mulder grasping the baby and Scully still staring from the spot she seemed frozen to.

* * *

Mulder felt inadequate and incompetent watching Scully. She'd taken exactly three seconds to recover her equilibrium before marching to the bag Frohike had left lying on the bed and rummaging around in it to find another bottle. After warming the milk she squirted some on her wrist and 'mmmm-d' in satisfaction. She'd whisked the baby from his large, clumsy hands and had him cuddled up on her lap with the bottle in his mouth, quiet within two seconds of discovering that food came from the little rubber teat.

"Mulder," she said, staring at the child in her arms greedily suckling at the bottle, "would you like to explain where this baby came from, who it is, and what we're supposed to do with it?"

His mouth went dry.

"Mulder?" she asked again, her eyes lifting from the baby and meeting his with and intensity that scared her.

"Frohike said they found him," he said lamely, unable to form the words.

"I'm going to need more than that, Mulder," she said pointedly.

He opened his mouth, trying to tell her. "He… He…"

"What's his name?"

Mulder stared at the child. "I don't know. They didn't say."

"Mulder," Scully said, impatience tinging her words.

"I… God, Scully," he whispered, scratching the back of his neck with one hand and backing away from her.

"Mulder, what aren't you telling me?" she demanded.

"Byers said he's mine," he managed, staring at Scully in confusion. She looked at him, her eyebrows arched and surprise flickering in her eyes before she looked down at the child again. "And yours," Mulder added hastily.

"What?" Her eyes flew up to meet his again.

"He's ours," Mulder said. "Our baby, Scully."

She looked at him doubtfully. "Our baby?" she echoed. "Mulder-"

"Byers said they have records. Your ova and my sperm. Our baby."

The words kept spinning around in his head, and he couldn't say them enough, he thought distantly. Our baby. Our baby. His and Scully's.

She stared, her mouth opening and closing but no sound came out of it.

"Frohike is getting PCRs done to confirm it, Scully," Mulder said, desperate to say something. "You can do them to at Quantico to check for yourself," he added.

"How?" she croaked, swallowing. "I don't understand how."

He frowned. "How old do you think this baby is?"

"Three, four months?" Scully guessed. "How old?"

"I don't know," Mulder said. "But if the IVF had worked, Scully, and you had a baby, how old would it have been?"

"Four months," Scully said, her voice rasping in her throat. "Oh, God, Mulder, that's not possible."

"How else could this child be mine, Scully?" he asked roughly. "You were never implanted with the embryo. Someone else was. Someone else gave birth to your baby."

"You don't know that, Mulder!" she snapped angrily.

"I do, Scully, I do," he whispered gently, walking toward her. His steps were broken, jarring, as though he was a marionette and a child was pulling his strings. "This baby is ours, Scully," he whispered as he fell to his knees beside the couch. "I don't know why they stole him from us, I don't know what their plans are, but I do know that we can stop them. We will stop them. This is our son, Scully."

Her fingers fluttered over the child's face, shaking. When she looked at him, there were tears in her eyes and slipping down her cheeks.

"Oh God, Mulder," she whispered, her breath catching in her throat. "Oh, God."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and cradling the baby between them. Her body shook as she sobbed against him, her tears burning his neck and wetting his shirt.

* * *

The subdued knock on the door alerted them to the fact that the Gunmen had returned from their timely sojourn. Mulder got up to let them in, Scully not moving from her position on the couch with the baby in her arms.

"He's sleeping," Mulder said quietly when he opened the door, stepping back to let them traipse in.

As anxious and buzzed as they had been when Mulder had first arrived, eager to show him what they'd found and agitated to understand what had happened, they were now quiet and sombre, their faces serious and concerned as they filed into his apartment.

"You've got some explaining to do," Frohike said.

"So do you," Mulder replied, shutting the door behind them. "You can start."

"Langly found him," Byers began to explain, settling himself against the wall where he could watch Scully as she held the baby. "We were running the cross matches between Parenti, Transgen and Zeus Genetics like you asked us to, Mulder."

"You said Scully had been one of Parenti's patients, so I typed her name up and bingo, we hit the jackpot," Langly continued, nodding toward the baby. "Had Scully and you listed as undergoing IVF, and that it failed. But there were other files labelled with your names, and we followed them through."

Mulder glanced across at Scully who was still silent, only her fingers moving as they stroked the sleeping baby's head. "How did you get him?"

"Byers played hero," Frohike announced. "We broke in and Byers pulled him out."

"How do you know you got the right baby?" Scully asked. "How do you know for sure that this our child?"

Frohike's gaze was scornful. "We aren't stupid, Agent Scully," he said disdainfully. "I get the PCRs tomorrow to confirm it, but if we're wrong then I'll… I'll… I don't know what I'll do, but I'm not wrong, Scully. This is your baby."

Mulder shifted uncomfortably on his feet, licking his lips nervously.

"So when were you planning on telling us?" Frohike asked.

"Telling you what?" Mulder asked dumbly.

"That you two were together."

"We're not," Mulder chorused with Scully, glancing down at her and then looking defiantly back at Frohike. "It's not like that," he defended.

"Sure," Frohike said, raising his eyebrow. "You're not together you but you try to have mini-Mulders and Scullys. How does that work?"

Scully didn't answer, and Mulder didn't know what to say. The silence was uncomfortable, and Mulder was ashamed to find himself staring at his feet like a school boy who didn't know what to say to the Principle.

"Mulder," Byers said, "I'm not sure if we did the right thing in taking this child."

Scully's eyes flashed. "No, Byers," she said firmly. "You did the right thing. What was wrong was them taking this child from us in the first place."

"Ethically, yes," Byers agreed. "But what are we going to do with him?"

The question hung in the air between them, and Mulder gazed curiously at Scully. What were they going to do with an unexpected and unplanned for child that just appeared out of nowhere?

Scully stared at them each in turn as though they were stupid. "What do you mean what are we going to do with him?" she asked, incredulous. "Do you know how much I wanted.." her voice broke off as she struggled for her composure.

"What are you going to call him?" Langly asked curiously.

"I don't know," Scully frowned. "Mulder?"

He shrugged helplessly.

"Have you considered the fact that maybe these people will try to get him back?" Byers said. "They obviously took him for a reason, maybe they'll want him back."

Mulder sighed, rubbing at his forehead with fingers. "Maybe they don't," he responded. "Maybe they gave you those files, Scully, so that we would find him."

"Why?"

"How would having a kid change your life?" Langly said. "Obviously you wouldn't be dropping everything to chase after X Files anymore."

Mulder stared at Langly. No, it couldn't be. Could it?

"What if it is that easy?" Scully said, causing Mulder to look at her. "What if that's the ulterior motive for providing those files."

"But why?" Byers asked. "Why go to the trouble when letting Scully just have the baby would have accomplished the same thing?"

"Maybe we should just wait until the PCRs come through, before we keep speculating," Langly suggested. "It could all be academic anyway."

Mulder didn't say anything, but he watched Scully's fingers clench the blanket wrapped around the baby, and felt his insides twist.

What if this baby wasn't hers? Or what if it was?

He wasn't sure which choice would be the lesser evil, and he wasn't sure which one he wanted it to be.

* * *

It had still been relatively early when the Gunmen left, but neither Mulder nor Scully had even suggested leaving the confines of his apartment. Instead, they'd watched the baby sleep, and when he'd woken several hours later, Mulder had stood back and watched as Scully deftly changed him, played with him, and then offered him another bottle when the soft cries started up again.

"How do you know all that?" Mulder asked, watching her as she sat on the bed, the baby cradled in her arms with a bottle in his mouth.

"What?" she asked.

"How to look after a baby," Mulder clarified.

"I have a nephew, Mulder," she said softly, her gaze focused on the little fist clenching the fabric of her blouse. "And all girls are chronically maternal when someone has a baby. I babysat as often as I could," she admitted. "And then at medical school I learnt some of the finer details."

"Oh," Mulder said, "I thought that somehow you were just born with the knowledge and I missed out."

She chuckled, a warm, soft sound that brought a smile to his lips. "If you get me a clean cloth from his bag I'll show you how to burp him," she offered generously.

Not entirely certain that he wanted to learn how to burp a baby, Mulder complied with her request. In the baby bag were several large white cloths, but Mulder had a suspicion they were diapers and not burping cloths. Shrugging, he picked one up turned back to Scully.

He opened his mouth to speak, and stopped, staring. The expression on Scully's face was a mixture of regret and wonder as she stared down at the baby, a longing on her face he felt he was voyeuristic to see. It took him a few seconds to realise what was happening, and when he realised, his breath hitched in his throat and he stepped unsteadily backward.

The movement caught her attention, and she looked up at him, wide-eyed and ashamed.

Ashamed.

She looked down at the baby in her arms, and moved him away from her breast. There was a damp patch where he had attempted to suckle, and Mulder found himself staring at it.

Ashamed.

Scully shouldn't have to be ashamed.

He walked to her, studying her. Her cheeks were red with humiliation, and her eyes remained focused on the baby now greedily sucking on her fingers. She flinched when Mulder reached for her, but she didn't move or say anything.

Mulder's fingers shook, and he fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, refusing to meet her gaze as she looked up at him. She didn't push him away or stop him when he had her blouse unbuttoned. There was a front clasp on her bra, and he reached for it with slow, hesitant fingers.

The material fell away gracefully, her throat moving as she swallowed roughly when he didn't move away, staring shamelessly at her. She was beautiful, he thought dully, the soft glow of her skin almost luminescent and contrasted by the darker nipples, already peaked under his gaze.

"Do it again," he whispered, his voice hoarse in his throat. He lifted his eyes to meet hers for the first time, staring at her for long seconds until she nodded almost imperceptibly. He watched as she guided the baby's head back toward her nipple, his little mouth searching her skin until he found it.

She cradled the baby close to her, her fingers brushing his cheek.

Mulder watched the baby for a long time, watching as his lids grew heavier and his suckling slowed.

"Mulder, would you give me the cloth please?" Scully asked, not looking up.

Cloth? It took him several seconds to remember the cloth he had retrieved what felt like hours ago. He spied it lying on the ground at the foot of the bed, so he picked it up and offered to her. She pushed her nipple from the baby's mouth easily; it shone slick and wet in the lamplight. There was no embarrassment or shyness when she stood up and draped the cloth over his shoulder with one hand, her breasts swinging freely as she moved.

She positioned the baby in his arms, and showed him how to rub his back, chuckling slightly as the baby burped loudly. "Scully," he said, licking his lips. "I'm going to ask you to button your shirt now."

Her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, and she turned her back while she buttoned up her shirt.

"You," he said to the baby, loud enough for Scully to hear, "are a very lucky little boy."

* * *

The morning sun offered a weak attempt to fight off the night, its pale rays creeping in through the windows and turning the shadows yellow gold. Mulder sat in a corner on a chair, watching Scully and their son sleep. The boy – his son, Mulder thought cautiously – was nothing more than a dark bundle curled against Scully, her arm resting over him protectively.

He let his gaze rest on Scully, shamelessly examining the way her jeans hugged her figure and the soft sweater clung in all the right places. She'd lost a lot of weight recently, he decided, possibly too much. And while he was thankful that the dark circles under her eyes seemed to have disappeared, her skin was still far too pale and her lips too strained. She was beautiful though, her hair liquid copper in the waking sunlight, and her features casting artistic shadows across her ivory skin.

This changed everything, he thought, his gaze flicking back to their son. This was what she had wanted. What she fought for, and lost with the IVF. What she had fought for again and lost with Emily. What she was fighting to expose.

Would she still want to fight, now that she had what she wanted?

The question taunted him, and he sighed at the unease it brought into his thoughts. Was it too much of a coincidence, this baby turning up now? Was this baby just another strategic play in a game engineered by men who were too cowardly to even show their faces and make known their names?

It disturbed him, the distrust he felt toward the infant.

But it was too easy. It had been too easy from the start, he thought tiredly. They'd disregarded protocol and orders with a frightening ease, avoiding redundancy more easily than he would have thought possible. They'd come so far, and had so much given to them in the way of information, for nothing.

What price were they paying for this?

Mulder stared at the child's form, hidden by lightening shadows.

Was he the price they'd have to pay to keep going? Would Scully be prepared to pay that price?

Or was this child simply an innocent and unplanned discovery by the Gunmen, something that no one had foreseen and had no dark implications tied to it? A coincidence?

Somehow, Mulder could not bring himself to accept the simplest solution.


	5. Chapter 5

**5.**

Krycek fingered the VCR's control with his good hand, letting his fingers brush over the soft buttons. In front of him the small screen blurred as it rolled quickly through surveillance footage, the dark empty corridors almost hypnotic as the hours scrolled past on the time stamp.

"There," he said suddenly, jamming his finger on the pause button.

Frame by frame by frame he inched it forward, watching the man on screen jog past, keeping close to the wall and ducking low, as though it would make him less obvious than walking upright would.

"Is it Mulder?" Spender questioned pointedly, drawing a breath of smoke in between his cracked lips.

"It's the same height and build," Krycek said, evading the question.

He rewound the tape again, pulling it back until the man first stepped into the frame, and then let it play normally.

"It doesn't make sense for them to kidnap a child," Geoffrey Spender commented.

Krycek glanced at the young man before raising his eyebrows at the man's father. "This is your son?" he asked mockingly.

The older Spender smiled, a strange pull of his features revealing a small glimpse of teeth yellowed by nicotine, coffee and old age. "I want confirmation that this is Mulder, and they have the child before we do anything."

Krycek felt the waves of satisfaction roll through him. "If this isn't Mulder, I don't know who it is."

The smoking man raised his cigarette to his lips thoughtfully.

"Should we make a move?" Geoffrey asked hesitantly.

"No," Spender shook his head, watching the ash flake off his cigarette. "No. We don't need to take the child back now."

"We don't?" Krycek questioned, surprised.

"No," the smoking man said smugly. "They'll come to us when they understand the full implications of what they've done. They won't have a choice if the Others learn of it."

Krycek let his gaze rest on paused image of the man on the screen. Blurred with static and poor quality, the fuzzy outline was hardly recognisable. He flicked the power button easily, watching the screen snap off and the image fade.

Fade. It was easy to make things fade.

* * *

Underfoot the rocky ground crushed against itself noisily when he stepped on it, his boots grinding against the small pebbles and scattering them before him. His breath steamed in front of his face – if he were poetically inclined he might imagine them to look like small puffs of stardust as they glistened in the waning moonlight. But Krycek was not poetically inclined under most circumstances, yet even in those circumstances where he was, it was hardly his style to wax lyrical about his own breath in the moonlight. 

On his right the train rails gleamed dull silver, kept clean by the passage of trains day by day. He followed the line absently, scuffing his worn boots through the gravel and staring ahead at the muted lights in the distance.

Huddled between the large sheds and sleeping engines, the small boxcar was lost in the shadows. He approached it slowly, wriggling his fingers in his coat pocket to try and generate some warmth in the bitterly cold air before he pulled his hand out and swiped a card through a small scanner next to the boxcar door. A soft beep, followed by a gentle hiss and click, and the door slid open for him, a stark white light spilling out and cutting the darkness in half.

"Krycek?" someone asked as he stepped inside, pulling his balaclava from his head and rubbing his cheeks with it for a second.

"I've come to check on your progress," he answered, jamming the balaclava into his pocket and stepping into the carriage. "Dr. Openshaw said you were getting close."

"Closer," the man corrected, adjusting his tie before stepping around Krycek. "She's still undergoing the procedure, but the modifications and her levels of immunity already are definitely bringing the end in sight."

The end, Krycek thought whimsically, was a lot closer than anyone knew.

"How long before she's ready?" he asked instead, staring at the far end of the boxcar. Huddled around a bench swathed with clothes were several figures in white coats and plastic masks.

"I don't know if we'll be successful this time around, but a few more days and this round will be over."

Krycek nodded. "I'll let them know."

"Anything else?"

"No."

He pulled the balaclava back out of his pocket, hooking it on the plastic fingers of his prosthetic limb to anchor it while he pulled it over his head. When he was satisfied and only his eyes were left uncovered, he turned to look at the man one last time. "Call me as soon as it works."

The man nodded silently, turning from Krycek and looking back toward the far end of the boxcar. "Expect a phone call soon, Krycek."

"I will," he said.

The air was bitterly cold on his eyelids when he stepped from the boxcar, the darkness encompassing when the door snapped shut behind him and he was left in the deserted train yard with only the empty lines for company.

He smiled as he watched his breath cloud in front of his face, seeing how each breath glistened for a single moment before disappearing into the darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

**6.**

* * *

_In my field of paper flowers  
__And candy canes of lullaby  
__I lie inside myself for hours  
__And watch my purple sky fly over me_

* * *

A soft whimpering woke Scully from her sleep, and she stirred in confusion. Next to her a small bundle of warmth wriggled like a cat, little legs kicking out and tiny hands batting gently against her arm.

A baby.

She stared down at him through a sleep induced fog of incomprehension, unable to remember how a baby had gotten into bed next to her. A hungry baby, she thought, with sapphire blue eyes, and a hungry little mouth ready to demand food. Before the baby could cry she picked him up, jiggling him against her for a few seconds until she remembered.

Her baby.

Mulder had said this was her baby. Hers and his. Theirs. A little boy.

His skin was soft against her cheek, the light down of his hair tickling her lips and his hands fisting against her clothes. Her eyes stung and her fingers tightened gently on the little baby.

A name, she thought, the little guy needed a name.

"Good morning, Baby," she whispered softly in his ear. His head wobbled against her hand, trying to turn toward her lips, and she smiled into his fuzzy peach head, breathing in his baby scent. "Hungry?" she whispered.

She pulled herself out of the bed. Mulder must have covered her some time during the night because the last thing she remembered was sitting on the bed and watching the baby sleep in her arms. He was wriggling in her arms now, his whimpers more insistent, building toward a crescendo she knew would be enough to wake the dead if she didn't hurry and get a bottle for him. The baby bag was lying on the floor next to the bed, several pieces of its contents spilled across the cream carpet. Scully snatched up a small tin of formula and an empty bottle, making her way out of Mulder's room and into the living area of his apartment.

He was lying on the couch, one arm tucked awkwardly beneath his head while the other rested on his stomach. During the night his shirt had worked up, and a large expanse of his abdomen, golden and lean, lay in view. Her cheeks flushed with humiliated heat as she remembered the previous evening, the intimacy of letting him watch a baby try to feed at her dry breast.

The baby wriggled in her arms again. "Shhh," she whispered, hurrying back into Mulder's room to find a dummy in the mess of baby paraphernalia spread across the carpet.

In the fridge she found Pepsi. She poured some in a glass before dunking the dummy in it a few times and pressing it into his mouth. It wouldn't hold him for long, she knew, and it probably wasn't a good idea at his age, but she didn't know how else to keep him quiet until she had his bottle ready.

Several minutes later the Pepsi and dummy trick had worn off, and Baby was getting angry.

"What a temper," she whispered against his soft head, his stiff little body fighting against her hold. "Just like your Daddy. Another minute, Baby, and then you can have your food."

When he found the teat with his mouth and suckled, his body relaxed and his eyes drooped with contentment, his rhythmic suckling taking over the entirety of his small world. She looked down at him in her arms, holding the bottle with her free hand while he fed.

So small, she thought with amazement. So small and so perfect.

He burped into his bottle, drooling around the teat.

Was this tiny little bundle really hers? She had no doubt that Frohike had been thorough with his testing and information before he took the risk of sending Byers for the child. But was he really hers?

He'd been stolen from her. She'd been denied the right to nourish him into life, to be there when he took his first breath and felt the first touch of air on his cheek. She'd been denied being there, carrying him, and feeling him grow.

Why now? Why had he been returned to her now?

She stroked his cheek absently with a finger while holding the bottle, studying his little features. This was what she had wanted, she thought, this child in her arms was what she had fought for. What she had lived for, only to have him stolen again and again, and now returned. Was it for good this time? Did she really get to keep him? Could he really be hers?

What would they do now? Would they keep fighting? Or would they just take him and go?

This, Scully thought as she watched her son, this changed everything. This was everything.

* * *

She was dressing the baby when Mulder got the call on his cell phone. By the time he hung up and turned to face her, she had wrestled a pair of booties onto the baby's feet and propped a ridiculous little blue cap on his head.

"Well?" she asked, staring up at Mulder.

Mulder nodded. "He's ours, Scully," he whispered. "PCRs confirmed it."

She tried to smile, tried very hard to force her lips wide open in a grin, but she failed miserably. Instead her eyes stung with tears, and she found herself struggling to breathe. She pulled the baby tight against her, rocking him against her body and kissing the soft skin of his cheeks and ears, breathing in his baby scent.

"I want to get him checked," she said, looking up at Mulder. "I want to be sure there's nothing wrong with him. Make sure he's okay."

"Scully, Frohike has his medical records, I don't think-"

"I don't care, Mulder!" she said, clutching the child against her. She felt delirious, as though she'd lost control and was spinning wildly out of orbit. All that mattered was the baby in her arms and holding him close and never letting go.

"We'll get him checked," Mulder said. "We will. We need to be careful, Scully, make sure we can trust the doctors."

She opened her mouth to argue, and realised something. "You knew," she said.

"Knew what?" he asked, trying to play cool, but she could see the panic in his eyes.

"You knew," she repeated angrily, struggling to her feet with the baby still in her arms. "You knew Parenti was involved with Transgen and you didn't tell me!"

"No!" he denied. "I didn't, Scully. Not until a few days ago, and I didn't know for sure until the boys turned up with the baby and the documents that proved his involvement."

"You still knew!" she said. Emotion that had surged hotly through her veins seconds before turned to ice as she stared at him. When she spoke again, her voice was controlled and calm. "That's why you asked me about the IVF yesterday," she said. "You knew about Parenti, and you knew there was a possibility the IVF didn't work because of sabotage. You knew, Mulder, and you didn't tell me."

"I couldn't," he said quietly, running a hand through his hair. "God, Scully, how was I supposed to tell you that your last try to have a child could have been deliberately engineered to fail? I didn't know anything for sure until him," he added, pointing at the baby in her arms. "I still don't know for sure if that's what happened. For all we know, Scully, they could have implanted you and tried everything, but it just didn't take. Maybe this all happened because they were desperate for you to have a child so we'd leave the X Files. I don't know anything for sure!"

The anger of his outburst surprised her, and she bit her lip in the face of his rage.

He closed his eyes, breathing heavily. "I was going to tell you," he said, his voice low and tired. "But we talked, Scully, and I didn't want to ruin that. Not the first time it happened."

The words stung like acid. He hadn't wanted to ruin the first real conversation they'd had about the IVF since it had failed. Hadn't wanted to ruin the first steps they made to dealing with the fact that it had happened, and neither of them had known how to respond to it. The fact that he thought their relationship was so tenuous a truth could shatter it was more hurtful than the fact that he hadn't told her, she realised dully.

"I was going to tell you today, because Frohike was going to get back to me with the information today," he continued, "but then they turned up last night, and so much happened that I just never told you."

She stroked the baby's head with light fingers, looking up at Mulder as he waited for her to respond. "Mulder," she said, "we're going to be okay."

"We are?" he asked, confused.

She nodded, hugging the baby close.

He smiled hesitantly at her, and she returned the smile cautiously. "But first we're going to go to my apartment so I can get some clean clothes."

* * *

Had it really been over a year ago when her world had been turned upside down and inside out with the discovery of Emily? Almost a year and a month, Scully realised as she carefully stroked the mascara onto her lashes.

A year ago she had thought she'd never have children. A year ago she'd found Emily, and lost Emily. A year ago Mulder had brought her the hope of children in a small test tube with her name printed on it in a plain typeface. A year ago Mulder had helped her try to fulfil her dream and have a child. A year ago, her hopes had shattered and Mulder had held her while she cried the salty tears of broken dreams.

A year ago, she'd given up. All that mattered was continuing. Proving that nothing could break them. And nothing had broken them, she thought with a fierce pride as she blotted her lips against a tissue. Nothing had broken them, though some things had come close.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Scully wondered if she'd be around for the next year. The crumpled tissues hidden in her coat pocket betrayed the lies about the nosebleeds she kept trying to feed herself. Another one since the woods yesterday. Two endless moments where everything she was had been focused on the trail of crimson leaking artlessly from her nose. The woman in the mirror stared back, her face calm and controlled. Emotionless.

Was this who she'd become?

Running her fingers through her hair, watching her reflection mimic the movement, Scully clenched her jaw with determination. This was who she was. She did not give up. She did not admit defeat. She would fight – her and Mulder – and they would give everything they had for the truth that drove them. Everything. They would give everything, because the rules had changed and it was personal now.

_Because it is personal, Mulder. Because without the FBI personal interest is all that I have. And if you take that away then there is no reason for me to continue. _

Scully placed her brush on the vanity, her tailored suit neat and tidy and professional. She would fight and she would survive, because Mulder and their son were relying on her, and she'd be damned if she let them down.

* * *

"I think we should name the baby," Scully said.

"Why? We could always just call him Baby," Mulder suggested.

"Yes, and when he's eight years old that's going to be the reason why he hates school," she said.

"What do you want to call him then?" Mulder asked.

Scully shrugged. "What do you think?"

"I don't mind, Scully," Mulder said. "You decide."

Scully frowned as she looked across at Mulder. "Can I ask you something, Mulder?"

"Sure," he said.

"How do you feel about this?"

"About the baby?"

"Yes."

He thought for several minutes, guiding the car across the icy roads carefully. "I worry," he said eventually, glancing across at her. "I'm scared that this is a set up, Scully. That they'll use this baby against us. Against you. And I don't want to see you hurt when it does go wrong. At the same time, I don't know what else to do."

"You don't think it's a good development," she surmised.

"I'm not saying I don't like the baby, Scully, or that I don't want him, but it's the timing," Mulder said. "Why now? I'm waiting for them to pull the rug out from under our feet. Legally, we stole this baby, Scully. It doesn't matter that he's ours genetically, we stole him. You didn't give birth to him, and we aren't legally recognised as his parents."

"We're living on borrowed time," Scully sighed. "It's not fair, Mulder."

"No," he agreed, "it's not."

"Do you want him?" Scully asked.

"As my son?" Mulder specified.

"Yes."

"I never really thought about having kids," he admitted. "Not until you asked me last year."

"Are we doing the right thing?" she asked.

He met her gaze openly. "I don't know, Scully. I don't know what to do. What do you want to do?"

She sighed. "I know what I want, but whether it's the for the best… I don't know, Mulder."

* * *

Mulder and the baby were at his apartment. It would be easier for them to stay at his apartment, given his couch was bigger and more comfortable than hers. She'd driven to her apartment to pick up some extra clothes, and told him she was swinging by the markets to pick up some food for dinner.

She lied to him, and the guilt made her feel dirty. There were some things she kept from Mulder to keep herself apart from him. To remember where he ended and where she began. To remember who she was when she was Dana and not Agent Scully.

But there were things she shouldn't keep from him, and they festered inside her like the cancer growing within her skull. A cancer of the mind, she thought bitterly as she stared down at the black and white radiograph she held in her hands, her eyes focused on the luminescent mass that distorted her scan.

It was back. It was really back.

She'd lied to him. She'd told him she was picking up dinner when she was really picking up her death sentence.

Scully slipped the radiograph back into its envelope and turned to leave the small office she'd been given some privacy in.

She'd tell Mulder soon, but not yet. Not now. She couldn't tell him this now, on top of everything else that was happening.

* * *

It felt wrong. She felt her nerves sing with anxiety as she waited for the break to come. Scully had never been good at lying or keeping secrets, and trying to lie to Mulder was making her feel sick with tension.

Mulder didn't seem to feel the tension though, hunched over his laptop and tapping away furiously at the keys.

Scully sighed and shook her head, finishing the salad and rinsing her hands under the tap. "Food's ready, Mulder," she told him, drying her hands.

"Thanks, Scully," he said absently, not moving from in front of the computer.

She didn't call him again, dishing up her own food and settling herself at the small table. He only moved when she'd cleared away all her dishes and wiped down the kitchen counters, his share still sitting untouched on the counter top. "You'll have to heat it up," she commented before going to check on the baby.

In the confines of his bedroom she sat on his bed after making sure the baby was okay, her elbows on her knees and her head bowed.

"Sorry," Mulder said awkwardly when he walked in a few minutes later, "I didn't realise you were busy."

"I wasn't," she admitted, looking up at him. He looked tired, she thought, his hair messy and his suit rumpled. "I was just wondering what we were going to do when our suspension at the Bureau is up."

"At least you've got the extra time to spend with the baby," he quipped, but it fell flat.

She smiled at his effort. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy that I'm getting this time to spend with the baby, Mulder. But it doesn't feel real. He doesn't feel real. It feels like I'm looking after someone else's baby. Like we're playing a game of make believe that's going to be over soon, and then I'll have to give back all the toys."

He didn't answer as he undid his tie, dropping it carelessly over the back of a chair before loosening the first few buttons of his shirt. Silently he moved over to the bed and lay down.

"I keep asking myself why," Mulder admitted. "Why the Gunmen managed to get hold of him so easily, and how they found him."

"It keeps going around and around in my mind," Scully agreed, curling up and facing him. "Do you think we could lose him?" she whispered.

He sighed heavily, closing his eyes for a few seconds before looking at her. "I don't know, Scully."

"Do you want him?" she asked hesitantly, remembering his earlier avoidance of the question.

A smile tugged at his lips. "He's cute," he said eventually. "I… I just don't think I've really conceived that he's mine, Scully. It's like you said; it feels like you're just looking after someone else's baby."

She nodded, sitting up to wriggle under the covers despite her jeans and blouse. "If… if the IVF had worked, Mulder, what would you have done?"

"What would you have wanted me to do?" he asked in return.

She swallowed. "I would have liked it if you'd wanted to be there, to share him," she admitted softly. "To be ours," she added, closing her eyes. "But if you didn't want that, Mulder, I wouldn't have blamed you."

He touched her cheek gently with his fingers, and she looked at him again. He was smiling slightly as his fingers brushed across her skin. "I would have wanted to share, Scully," he said murmured. "To make him ours."

He gathered her in his arms, and they lay together quietly. As his fingers combed through her hair and his heart beat against her cheek, she thought of the radiograph in its envelope, lying pushed out of sight under the bed. She should tell him, she thought, but not now. She couldn't do it now.


	7. Chapter 7

**7.**

Mulder woke before Scully, confused at first as to why she was sleeping next to him until he remembered lying on the bed with her and talking the night before. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, and lifted himself up on one arm to cast a quick eye on the baby still sleeping happily in his brand new crib.

The sun had barely risen, the light still a soft grey as it fought against the shadows. Much too early to wake up, Mulder thought to himself, curling his body back against Scully's. She was so warm and soft. Despite the early hour, he couldn't sleep, and he found himself watching Scully's face as the room slowly lightened.

Lost in sleep, her face was anything but peaceful. He'd seen Scully sleep before on several occasions, and had always marvelled at the innocence she'd projected while slumbering. This time her face looked tired and scared, pale against the sheets.

Her skin was soft against his fingers when he brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, and he followed the line of her cheek tenderly. So soft and smooth, he thought. Her eyelids fluttered at his touch, and he knew she'd wake up soon. Making the most of the opportunity, he pulled her closer.

He watched her wake up, seeing the way she blinked sleepily, and gazed at him completely accepting for a few seconds. He saw the exact second she remembered who they were, where they were, and why they were there.

"Mulder," she murmured, blinking again to chase away the last fingers of sleep.

"Morning," he said softly, reaching again to brush the hair from her face again and tuck it behind her ear. "You warm enough?" he asked.

She nodded, not making any move to get up.

Good, he thought, shifting onto his back and pulling her half across him. Their legs were still tangled together, lazy and warm.

"Is the baby sleeping?" she asked, letting her head rest against his chest.

"Yes," he answered, rubbing her back gently. "Did he wake up during the night?"

"Yes," she murmured. "Twice."

She didn't pull away or discourage him when his hand slipped beneath the thin material of her wrinkled shirt and explored the smooth expanse of her back. "You're warm," he whispered against her temple, nuzzling her hair.

"So are you," she agreed, her eyes closing.

"Warm is good."

"Mmm."

He sighed when she moved her hand against his chest, resting her palm on his sternum while her fingers moved slowly up and down. Mulder closed his eyes and shut the world away, only the feeling of Scully against him following him back into sleep.

* * *

"We have to decide what we're going to do," Scully said as she packed the clean plates away into the cupboard.

Mulder nodded as he pulled the plug out of the sink, the water swirling and gurgling as it spiralled down the drain.

"I see us as having two choices," Mulder said calmly. "Either we keep him or we don't."

Scully snorted, but it was a desperate sound. "You make it sound like he's a pet, Mulder, a puppy. This is our son!"

He turned toward her. "I know that, Scully. But I also know the lives we live. The danger we're in. Can we protect this child, if he is in some way involved with the conspiracies we're trying to unravel? And even if we can protect him, Scully, how are we going to explain him? You weren't pregnant. Four month old babies don't just appear unless they've been adopted, and there is no record of you adopting him."

She bit her lip; he was right. He was always right.

"There is a third option," Mulder said quietly, his gaze steady. "If it's what you want, Scully, it's the best option."

"What's the option?"

"We run," he said flatly. "Leave behind everything we worked for, your family, your friends… everything. Go into hiding and hope they never find us."

"What if that is what they want, Mulder? Maybe it is just a way for them to get us to stop, because we were getting too close to the truth."

"You'd give up the truth for this?" he asked.

"What is the truth, Mulder?" she snapped. "Knowing whether there really are aliens? Uncovering all the conspiracies in our government? What, Mulder?"

"Are you saying we've been fighting for nothing?" he demanded. "That everything we've done and sacrificed and found the last six years has been for nothing?"

"No, I'm not saying that," she defended. "I'm asking whether it's worth it now, Mulder, and I don't think it is."

"You don't?"

"No. I've chased the monsters, Mulder. I found the monsters a long time ago. I don't need to prove to the world that they exist, and I'm not naïve enough anymore to believe that we truly can bring them to justice. My priorities have changed, and I want more than just chasing the next monster on the horizon."

"What about the experiments?" Mulder asked. "What about the children being created from the ova of innocent woman, and used as experiments and research subjects? Don't you want to stop them, Scully, or do you just want to take the baby now and make your dreams a reality while you bury your head in the sand?"

She didn't answer him, but uncertainty flashed across her eyes.

"That's what we do, Scully," he reminded her roughly. "That's what we fight for. You wanted to do this, Scully, you were willing to risk your career for a scrap of evidence that proved nothing. You started this, you can't not finish it now."

A strange sound escaped from her lips, a strangled hiccup or giggle, and she turned her back on him, fleeing.

"Scully?" he called, following her into the bedroom.

She was sitting on her knees on the bedroom floor, a large brown envelope in her hands. He watched curiously as she rose to her feet, thrusting the envelope toward him.

"I might not have a choice, Mulder," she whispered, leaving him alone in the room with the envelope in his hands.

It felt like déjà vu, he thought distantly, staring at the black and white image. An almost identical copy to the one she'd shown him two years ago. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut tightly until little flashes of light danced across his vision and explosions of colour threatened to overwhelm his senses.

When he opened his eyes, the image was still there, stark and vivid. Inescapable.

"I went in a few days ago," Scully said from the doorway, watching him. "I… I was worried."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded, ashamed to feel the heat of tears burning his eyes.

"I didn't know for certain until yesterday," she whispered. "I didn't want it to be true, Mulder. I didn't want to tell you," she added.

"Why not?"

She licked her lips nervously; he saw her hands shaking as she laced her fingers together in front of her. "Because I didn't want you to worry," she said. "Because I didn't want you to think I couldn't finish this."

"But you've told me now," he said.

A delicate smile curved her lips, but it was whimsical and Mulder wasn't sure he knew why she was smiling. "I don't know that I can finish this, Mulder," she admitted.

The words scared him; Scully never said things like that. She fought.

"Scully?" he asked uncertainly.

"It's big, Mulder," she said softly. "Too big. They took some blood and are running tests, but they think it's already metastasised."

"How could this happen?" he asked.

She shrugged carelessly. "I don't know, Mulder."

"But the chip-"

"We don't know that it was the chip which caused the remission to begin with, Mulder," she said gently. "For all we know, it was an act of God."

God, Mulder thought viciously, an act of God. He didn't believe in God. He'd stopped believing in God when his sister had disappeared and he'd been shown what the world was really like. There was no God. Anger rolled over him in a red sheet of fire, and he hated Scully for her ability to believe in a lie.

"Mulder," she said uncertainly. "I… I don't know if I can do this."

The anger dissipated, replaced by a bleak and desolate defeat that left him gaping and empty inside. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him, burying his face against her neck and feeling the flutter of her pulse against his lips.

"Scully," he murmured, "oh, Scully."

And then came the fear. Wild and consuming, it pulled at him, dragging him down and down and down until he could hardly breathe. His fingers tightened on her, his lips parting so that he could taste her, smell her, have her.

She gasped, her fingers clenching in his hair.

It was wild and frantic, her lips hot and warm and alive against his, his tongue sliding wetly against hers as he fought to devour her, breathe life into her. He backed her up against the wall, fighting for air when he released her lips and found her neck again, her skin soft and warm, her pulse thundering with life.

It wasn't about love, or trust or desire; it was fear. Fear drove him to pull her closer, to hold her tighter, to imprint her on his senses in which ever way he could.

Fear of losing her.

Her fingernails scraped against his back, the stinging sharp and jarring, but it was good. It was real. Vibrant.

She parted her legs when he slipped his hand lower, finding her hot and wet and ready. She moaned into his mouth, pressing greedily against his hand, her teeth tugging and her tongue soothing. She tasted as bitter as coffee and as sweet as nectar, the copper tang of blood mixing with his saliva.

He jerked, breaking away from her.

Thick red blood stained her lips and skin, garish as stage make up.

She pushed him away without a sound, eyes wild, and left him standing with her fear on his fingers and his mouth sticky with her blood.

* * *

I apologise for posting this so slowly and inconsistently, but the muse bit me again the other day and decided that the ENTIRE ending has to be changed. I hope you're still enjoying it and will stick around for the rest of the fic.

And I beg shamelessly for feedback.


	8. Chapter 8

**8.**

Krycek's mouth was dry, and an uncharacteristic fear turned restlessly in his gut. The air still smelt of burnt flesh and charcoal, despite the heavy rains which had come just before dawn.

He watched as Skinner and Geoffrey made a beeline for an ambulance he knew contained Cassandra Spender.

Cassandra.

Everything, Krycek thought bitterly, everything was going to hell. All the plans, all the strategy… everything. Ruined in one strike by the Rebels.

Skinner and Geoffrey disappeared into the back of the ambulance. Krycek stayed for a few minutes longer, watching the milling law enforcers as they wandered around in a daze, their faces horrified by the expression of violence scattered across the train yard.

The expression of a violence they couldn't begin to comprehend.

Going to hell, and there almost no chance of stopping the journey. Unless…

Turning his back on the mud and ruins, Krycek lit a cigarette and chuckled bitterly. There was a chance, he realised, and he would do anything to survive.

* * *

The smoked seemed thicker than usual, more cloying. He poured himself a whiskey, well aware his normal behaviour did not include drinking the alcohol the old men enjoyed so much.

"Why did they leave her?" someone demanded.

"She was a success," Spender admitted, his cigarette burning slowly as he held it in his fingers. "She's the one."

"After all this time," a man breathed. "You know what must be done."

"It's too late for that," Spender pointed. "The Rebels know she exists. I have no doubt the others are aware as well. Killing her will achieve nothing."

"Will we establish contact?"

Spender extinguished the cigarette carelessly, dropping the stub into the ashtray. "I don't see we have a choice."

He was wrong, Krycek thought, there was always a choice.

* * *

"Who are you?" she demanded. Her voice was huskier than he imagined it would be, but girlish at the same time. Deceptively innocent.

"Someone like Mulder," he responded calmly, still hiding in the shadows. She could see him though; her blue eyes - narrowed at Mulder's name - pierced the darkness as easily as he would pierce her neck.

He could see the exact moment she realised who he was. A small giggle of disbelief escaped from her, bursting forth wildly before she could control it. "How many more of you are there?" Cassandra demanded.

"I don't know," Krycek admitted ruefully. "He was a busy man, your husband."

"Evidently," she agreed bitterly. "You, Geoffrey and Mulder. Couldn't ask for three more different people, could you?"

"I guess not." He was having a conversation with a woman he was about to kill, and it felt entirely natural, as though she knew where it was progressing. The soft hiss of the alien stiletto echoed through the air between them. She didn't flinch when he stepped out of the shadows toward her.

"And out of everyone, you're the only one who can do what has to be done," she said softly. "You're the one most like him."

"Yes."

"Good." She turned for him, showing him the base of her neck, wrinkled and marked by age. The stiletto slid in easily, her blood bubbling green as she slumped forward.

It took longer than usual, and even when the bubbling and hissing stopped, she wasn't completely dissolved. A green and flesh mix of a bastardised world messed across the bed and dripped onto the floor.

Krycek slipped his stiletto back into his pocket and left her room silently.


	9. Chapter 9

**9.**

The ringing of the phone jarred him awake, and he rolled off the couch clumsily before scrabbling for the receiver. "Mulder," he grunted, rubbing at an elbow he'd knocked against the coffee table.

"Mulder, it's Skinner."

"Sir," Mulder muttered, reflexively sitting a little straighter on his couch. "How are you?"

"Were you told that they found Cassandra Spender?" Skinner asked, ignoring the question.

"What? No, sir, no one told me. How is she?"

"She's dead, Mulder. She died last night, purportedly in her sleep, at a secure facility."

"Why are you telling me this, sir?" Mulder asked.

"The circumstances in which she was found, and her sudden death make me think this is something you'd be interested in."

"I'm not on the X Files anymore, sir. In fact, I'm on 'leave' at the moment."

"Yes, I heard about that," Skinner said, sounding slightly irritated. "She was found at the Potomac Yards in Arlington. A group of people appear to have been burned alive again, Mulder, and she was the only survivor."

"Again?" Mulder breathed, feeling his heart thump loudly in his chest.

"Cassandra wanted to talk to you, Mulder, but evidently word never got through to you."

"Evidently," Mulder agreed shortly. "Why are you telling me all of this, Skinner?"

"I wanted to know what your take on it was. And why they would murder Cassandra Spender?"

"You know what my take would be, and I couldn't tell you why they would kill Cassandra," Mulder said bluntly.

"Cassandra?" Scully's voice asked from behind him. "Cassandra Spender?"

"Hold on," Mulder muttered into the phone, turning to face Scully. "They found Cassandra, but she died last night," he said gently.

"Oh god," she whispered.

"Mulder, you still there?" Skinner was asking into the phone.

"Yes, sir."

"There is one other thing. A man was found this morning, apparently also burnt alive and hidden in the basement of the building complex where he worked. Forensics estimates his death to be two to three days ago. The strange thing is, his staff and other people who've been interview swear they saw him yesterday, and spoke to him."

"Other than also being burnt, what's his connection to Cassandra?"

"There isn't one. But he's closely related to a Doctor Openshaw, who was one of the victims at the Potomac Yards. They're linked through a vested interest in genetic research, specifically the field of immunology."

"I'd love to help you, sir, but at the moment I'm busy with another situation," Mulder said.

"Another situation?" Skinner asked suspiciously.

"Yes," Mulder said. "One that's a bit tricky to just ignore at the moment."

Sounding highly suspicious, Skinner said goodbye, leaving Mulder with the phone in his hand and Scully standing at the other end of the room, watching him warily.

"That was Skinner," Mulder said unnecessarily.

"I guessed," she said.

"It looks like an X File," he added.

She quirked an eyebrow, but other than that she didn't move. Mulder sighed, rubbing his face with his hands to try and get rid of the last vestiges of sleep. "Scully," he started, only to be interrupted by a loud knock on his front door, followed instantly by a gusty wail from the baby still in the bedroom.

"I'll get the door," he said instead.

"I'll get the baby," Scully said, disappearing into the bedroom.

Mulder sighed and pulled his jeans on over the boxers he'd slept in, figuring it was still early so opening the door without a shirt would be relatively acceptable.

His visitor knocked again, loudly, and Mulder felt a flash of irritation spark through him at the demanding rhythm. "I'm coming," he called before curling his fingers around the door handle and pulling the door open. His eyes widened, and then narrowed in anger.

"Krycek," he hissed.

* * *

"Well, are you going to invite me in or not?"

"What the hell are you doing here, Krycek?" Mulder demanded, staring at the man standing on his doorstep.

"I don't think you want to have this conversation where anyone can hear it," Krycek said amicably. Despite the conversational tone lacing Krycek's words, there was a wild urgency in his eyes and movements which made Mulder's heart thud with concern.

"Why should I listen to you?"

"Because you want to hear what I've got to tell you," Krycek said confidently. "Trust me, Mulder."

Without waiting for the invitation, Krycek pushed past Mulder, to where Scully was now standing pointing a gun at him. "What the fuck are you doing here, Krycek?" she demanded curtly.

Krycek smiled. "This isn't the way you treat someone who's going to help you," he admonished.

"You don't help, Krycek, you destroy."

"No, I survive," Krycek corrected. "There is a difference. And I have helped you, I made sure you got the baby, didn't I?" he said petulantly.

"You led us to the baby?" Scully demanded instantly. "Why?"

"Because we're all part of the answer," Krycek said cryptically. "You, Mulder, your baby, and me."

"What answer?" Mulder demanded.

"How it ends. Who wins."

"I think you can start at the beginning," Scully ordered, "and explain everything once and for all."

"Put the gun down, Scully, it's not like I can do anything with two of you here," he said calmly, shrugging the armless shoulder to emphasise his disadvantage.

"No," Scully said bluntly. "Tell me how we're part of it, and what exactly it is that we are a part of."

Krycek glanced pointedly at Mulder, who shut the door and moved over to the couch. Following his example, Krycek also found a spot, Scully seating herself last, the gun still pointed at Krycek.

"It's story time, children. Listen to Uncle Alex," he smiled.

"Just get on with it, Krycek," Mulder snapped, losing the last of his patience.

"The 'it' that you want defined, Scully, is the cure."

"The cure to what?" Scully asked.

"The virus. The black oil. The beginning of what will be the most destructive plague known to mankind. Mankind will cease to exist if this plague is unleashed."

"So how are we all part of it?" Mulder asked.

"Each of us is immune. Mulder and I picked up the immunity in Tunguska, you in Antarctica, and the baby through you and Mulder. Inherited junk DNA coding for proteins which are, effectively, the anti-virus. DNA that we ceased to use thousands of years ago. Nobody knows exactly why, Scully, but this baby is immune."

"That's not possible, Krycek," Scully said flatly. "My ova were taken from me before I received the vaccine in Antarctica. Adam was conceived by an ovum taken years before I received the vaccine."

"But Mulder was immune," Krycek said softly. "And the unidentified proteins in your system were a result of the procedure they used to activate the same DNA within your ovum before they took them."

"Then why did she react to the virus?" Mulder demanded. "Why need another vaccine if she already has these proteins in her blood stream?"

"Proteins break down. These proteins disappeared long ago, didn't they, Scully?"

She nodded.

"Your baby has his DNA permanently activated to produce these proteins. You've seen them, haven't you Scully, in the test results Frohike gave you?" Krycek asked, but he didn't need her affirmative nod to continue. "The combination of Mulder's immunity and your ova with its activated DNA produced a child that is immune to the effects of the black oil. Your child possesses something the Syndicate has been working to synthesise for nearly fifty years."

"Specific immunity doesn't work like that," Scully argued, "you don't just inherit it."

"You think it doesn't, but this immunity does," Krycek disagreed. "This is the same virus that turns a human into an alien. Give its anti-virus the same benefit of a doubt, Scully."

"It's not possible, Krycek!" she argued.

"Believe what you want, Scully, but for some reason Mulder's immunity did something to the ova fertilised by his sperm, and some of the babies are all naturally immune to the virus. They are the first, and the only. And I need to know why."

"They?" Scully whispered.

"Two more," Krycek said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "But you won't get to them, Scully. You never will. One was immune, the third wasn't. Both of those children were disappeared; even I don't know where they are. I was lucky to find this one."

"They're my children!" Scully hissed.

"And you've got one of them," Krycek responded coolly. "You've got one of your children, Scully, which is more than you should have ended up with, had everything gone to plan. Especially since he's immune."

"Why let us take him then?" Mulder questioned.

"They didn't. You were never supposed to know about them."

"Then why do we know about them? And why do we have him?"

Krycek shrugged. "Fairy godmother. Someone who supported your cause. Someone who felt sorry for you, maybe."

"You?" Scully asked doubtfully.

Krycek shrugged. "I just made sure he got to you, before the Rebels or the Colonists found out about him."

"What's your stake in this, Krycek?" Mulder asked quietly.

"Me? I'm in this because it's personal," Krycek said simply.

"Personal?" Scully asked cynically.

Krycek looked at her pointedly. "I take dying as personal. I take having my planet over run by aliens who eat you from the inside as personal. I take losing my arm as personal. Take your pick, Scully, but it's personal."

"Why, Krycek," Mulder drawled, "I didn't know you had a heart."

Krycek chuckled bitterly. "This has nothing to do with heart, Mulder, and everything to do with survival. You, Scully, your son and your little group of associates is the best chance this planet stands at surviving. I'm smart enough to realise it, and desperate enough to tell you that."

* * *

The baby had cried again, when Krycek had finished his explanation, and Scully had risen uncertainly to her feet to go tend him.

"Noisy little tyke, isn't he?" Krycek grinned.

"She doesn't believe you," Mulder said, "and I'm not sure if I do either."

Krycek shrugged. "Believe what you will, but time's running out."

"What do you mean?"

"The Rebels are attacking. They're going to destroy us, before the Colonists can take us as hosts and slaves. They were the ones who made sure Cassandra Spender lived, and that the Colonists were made aware of her existence."

"Why is Cassandra so important?" Mulder asked.

"She was the first successful human-alien hybrid. What the Colonists want to use as slaves. Cassandra was going to be bait, and when the Colonists came to claim Earth, the Rebels would attack. But the Rebels will kill us before they let the Colonists get us," Krycek said calmly.

"So you killed Cassandra."

If he hadn't been watching Krycek so closely, he wouldn't have caught a glimpse of a flickered emotion which he couldn't identify, but as it was Mulder wasn't sure he'd seen it.

"She had a hard life," Krycek said. "She understood the stakes even better than you do, Mulder. She knew it had to be done."

"You're a murderer, Krycek," Scully hissed from the doorway, drawing both Mulder's and Krycek's attention toward her.

"And this must be your son," Krycek said, ignoring the comment as he stared at the baby cradled in Scully's arms. "The baby in which lies our only hope for survival."

Scully's arms tightened visibly around the baby, and an uncertain fear strained her lips. "What do you want from us, Krycek?" she asked softly.

Krycek smiled, and there was a trace of what appeared to be sympathy in his smile. "I'm here to make sure the child – Adam – stays safe."

"Adam?"

"I think it was Parenti's idea of an irony," Krycek said, shrugging. "Adam. The first."

Mulder swallowed and stared at the baby.

"We have to go," Krycek said.

"What?" Mulder and Scully demanded together.

"One of the Consortium was murdered two days ago," Krycek said, "and there has been significant evidence planted at his home to suggest that you were involved."

Mulder raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"You're being framed, Mulder, a joint effort by the Spender family, and it will be successful. The punishment you get for stealing one of his project," Krycek said dryly, shrugging toward the child still in Scully's arms. "Unless you want to find yourself in prison – where it's very easy to have suicide committed for you, apparently – you're going to have to leave."

Mulder ran a strained hand through his hair. "Give me one reason to believe a single word that you've just uttered," Mulder demanded.

"I don't have any proof," Krycek admitted, "but if you want to hang around and find out you're more than welcome to. I will suggest, though, that Scully then takes the baby and gets as far away from here as possible, because the Rebels will, and probably have already through infiltration, learnt about Adam. They will want him, because he holds the only hope against the Colonists virus."

"Mulder?" Scully asked uncertainly.

He licked his lips. "I don't trust you, Krycek."

"I know."

"But if Krycek is telling the truth, Scully, we should go."

"Where?"

"Somewhere near the ocean," Krycek said firmly. "Trust me, we want to be real close to the water in case the Rebels do find us."

"We?" Mulder repeated warily.

"I've invested more time than I should have making sure you got hold of the kid, Mulder, and I'm not about to let you lose him now. Besides, you want me with you, Mulder. I know more about the Rebels and the Colonists than you do, and I know how to get away from them."

"Why should we listen to you?" Mulder asked again.

"You don't have to," Krycek conceded, "but what will you gain from listening? If we leave now, and in the next few days you discover that what I'm telling you isn't true, what have you lost? Nothing. You're in control the entire time; I'm just along for the ride. On the other hand, if what I'm telling you is true, then you've got a lot more to lose by hanging around here and waiting for the FBI to arrest you."

Mulder looked across at Scully, who was watching him with her brow furrowed.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"It could explain why Kersh let us off so easily," she murmured. "He didn't need to fire us; we were set up from the beginning."

"I'll let the Gunmen know we've gone underground."

"I'll go pack Adam's things," Scully murmured quietly.

Mulder stared at the doorway through which she'd disappeared for several seconds.

"Six years, Mulder, and you're still staring after her," Krycek commented.

"I do not stare after Scully."

Krycek raised an eyebrow.

"If you're lying, Krycek, or you double cross us, your other arm will not be the only appendage I cut off," Mulder said calmly.


	10. Chapter 10

**10.**

* * *

_Don't say I'm out of touch  
__With this rampant chaos – your reality  
__I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge  
__The nightmare I built my own world to escape_

* * *

She'd been a normal little girl who'd dreamt of weddings with white satin bows and a long lacy train on her dress. The day was supposed to be perfect, and at the end of it she was going to sail off in a little boat with white sails and her new husband. 

In reality there wasn't ever going to be a wedding, and even if there was one on the horizon no satin bows or long lacy trains would have been part of the festivities. Scully sighed as she shifted on the seat and tried to ease the ache out of her bones.

The sum of her life was not even close to what she had dreamed about. For the second time she faced her mortality, and this time she dared not hope for a second miraculous recovery. The sharpened blade of time hung over her, its weight on her shoulders reminding her that it wouldn't be long before she ran out of minutes.

In his car seat, Adam whimpered and fussed, his sleep as restless and uneasy as her thoughts. Scully shifted again and leant over his sleeping form next to her, gazing down at him with tender eyes.

This was what she had dreamt about. This little life of soft and warmth with perfect fingers and toes and chubby cheeks. She let a finger trace down his baby soft skin, following the delicate shell of his ear and the plumpness of his little arms. He would be tall, she decided, tall and lanky like Mulder, with an ease of movement and quickness of limb that was catlike in elegance. His eyes would stay blue, but his hair would darken to a chestnut brown and his grin would be lopsided.

What she had not dreamt about was monsters and conspiracies and a baby immune to an alien virus. Never in her fantasies had she imaged a silent dash across the countryside in a rented car with a murderer to avoid not only the law, but the aliens themselves.

She sighed, her breath moving over his skin and causing his nose to wrinkle with irritation before he settled into sleep again.

And she'd never imagined dying of cancer.

* * *

Martha's Vineyard was cold and wet, the sea air thick and sticky as it tangled brine-rich fingers through her hair. Gulls swooped across the grey clouds, their calls blending into the air and providing accompaniment to the steady thunder of the ocean as it pounded the powder fine sands along the beach. The cold air made her nose run, and she discreetly raised her hand to wipe it away. A red streak on her pale skin informed her that her nose was bleeding again, as opposed to merely dripping. 

"Here," Mulder said softly, pushing a handkerchief at her. She accepted it silently, frowning. Mulder didn't normal carry handkerchiefs around with him – the only time she'd ever known him to have them handy was the last time she'd had cancer.

Involuntarily she shivered, turning away from her view of the ocean. She watched as Mulder deftly unbuckled Adam from his seat, the baby sleeping happily now, and cradled him against his chest.

"Come on," Mulder said, shutting the car door, "time for a tour." He led them up the stairs into the main house, Scully following close behind while Krycek lagged at the back, carrying Scully's bag with his one good hand and his pack on his back. She didn't say anything about him taking her luggage without being asked – the gesture surprised her.

The house was large and dusty, obviously unused. Photographs decorated the walls of the house, images of Mulder and a young girl Scully guessed was Samantha.

"The bathroom's through there, Scully," Mulder said, pointing to a hallway. "Second door on the right."

"Thanks," she said, leaving them to go clean up.

By the time she finished in the bathroom, Mulder had a coffee ready for her and Adam was demanding his bottle.

* * *

The sun had set, throwing the world into darkness. Outside, Scully could hear the thunder of the ocean rumbling through the ground, and the increasing strength of the howling wind suggested a storm was on its way. 

"They'll know we're here, Mulder," she said softly, watching as Mulder fed Adam. "We can't stay long."

"I know," Mulder agreed, "we'll leave tomorrow morning. Stay on the move for now."

Scully sighed. "Looks like we took the third option," she said.

"In the scheme of things, we didn't really get much of a choice," Mulder pointed out.

"What would you have chosen?" Scully asked, oddly pensive.

"What you chose," he said simply.

She swallowed, closing her eyes. "Even if I wanted to take Adam and leave?"

He nodded silently, not taking his eyes from the infant on his lap greedily suckling at the bottle he held.

"Mulder?" she asked.

He looked up, his eyes tired. "I thought you would."

His reaction surprised and unsettled her. She'd expected anger or disappointment, arguing or deliberate emotional blackmail, and she'd readied herself to respond to any of his manipulations accordingly without giving in. But this calm, accepting Mulder wasn't what she'd been expecting.

"Is that all you're going to say?" she asked, watching him intently.

"What do you want me to say, Scully?" he said. "I knew when the baby turned up that you'd retire. I knew when you asked me to donate sperm for you that the inevitable outcome would be you either leaving the X Files or retiring from the Bureau completely. This isn't exactly unexpected. It's the logical choice to make."

She opened her mouth to respond, but found she couldn't, so she dropped her gaze to the baby. "The bottle's finished," she said instead.

Mulder handled the baby easily now, she observed, watching as he positioned the infant and rubbed his back gently, not even flinching as the baby brought up some milk.

"What do you want, Mulder?" she asked suddenly, shocked to realise she didn't know what he wanted in all of this. He'd taken on the role of father without complaint, but also without telling her whether he wanted it or not.

"What do I want?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows. "You really want to know what I want, Scully?" he asked.

"Of course I do, Mulder," she said. "Why wouldn't I?"

A half smile twisted his lips and he rocked the baby. "It hasn't ever been about what I want," he pointed out.

She wanted to protest and argue that statement. He was right; it was always about her and what she wanted. Humiliation and guilt stained her cheeks. "What do you want, Mulder?" she asked quietly.

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Mulder-"

"I don't know what I want, Scully," he repeated. "My life has always been about finding Samantha, and then the X Files and the truth. I need to find what I want from life without those quests. And now it doesn't matter anyway, because this was something none of us planned for."

"Things don't often turn out the way we plan," Scully pointed out, smiling at the cliché.

"You have to admit though, how many people really plan for aliens and conspiracies?"

She grinned, dropping into silence as they heard Krycek walking down the stairs.

* * *

Scully wasn't usually a negative person, but at night when it was dark and she was alone with her thoughts, she always found herself feeling pulled under. It was pointless to run. Even if they did run, where would they go? How would they go? 

Scully lay on the bed silently, not moving. Mulder was next to her, the first time he had slept beside her since the night she told him she had cancer again. With Krycek in the spare room, he didn't really have a choice, she thought bitterly.

He wasn't sleeping; she'd slept next to him too often in the past to be fooled by his slow breathing and controlled movements. He was just as awake as she was, just as tense, and just as awkward.

"What do you think we should do?" she asked eventually, shattering the dark silence between them and calling off the game of pretend they'd been playing.

"I don't know," Mulder sighed. "I don't trust him."

"Neither do I. But if he's telling the truth and they're after Adam…"

"What about you?" he asked suddenly.

"What about me?"

"How are you?"

She contemplated the question in the darkness. "I'm okay," she said at last. Not great, but not bad either. Just okay.

"What did the doctor say when you had the scan?"

Scully sighed. "He wanted me to have treatment," she softly. "But it didn't work last time, Mulder, so I'm not putting myself through it again."

"You don't know that it won't work this time," he argued.

"It doesn't matter, Mulder," she said tiredly.

"Of course it matters, Scully!" he snapped loudly.

"Shh!" she hissed, "you'll wake Adam. And Krycek is next door."

The bed shifted under his weight, his movements sharp and angry as he tugged at the covers and repositioned himself. "You're not going to give up, Scully," he ordered.

"What are we going to do, Mulder? Go on the run? We can't. There's nowhere to go. Nothing we can do."

"What about Adam?" he demanded. "If Krycek is telling the truth, and they are after him, then we have to do something."

"What?" Scully asked again. It felt like they were repeating themselves, replaying the same arguments again and again and again. She was tired. She just wanted to sleep. Just wanted to be held while she slept, and kept safe.

"What if he's telling the truth?" Mulder repeated. "What if trusting him is our only choice?"

"It's never the only choice," Scully said softly. "There are always other choices."

"But I don't see any."

She turned onto her side, facing him. "Mulder, I'm tired. Can we just go to sleep?"

"We can't just ignore this, Scully," he said gently.

She sighed, closing her eyes. "Just hold me, Mulder. Please," she whispered.

She didn't often run from the truth. She didn't ignore it, and put herself first. But she was so tired, and she missed Mulder. She missed him more than she had ever thought possible, even though was right next to her.

She felt the bed move again as he rolled toward her, gathering her up in his arms. His fingers played across her back and she buried herself against him, breathing in his scent. She let her hand rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingers.

Sleep was coming; she thought contentedly, a warm sleep pressed against Mulder who would hold her while she dreamt.

* * *

The room was dark when she woke, and she reached instinctively for Mulder. He was warm against her, his skin smooth against her palms. She ran her hands over his arms, tracing his cheek with a finger. 

He stirred beneath her touch, rolling toward her and wrapping himself around her. "Scully," he sighed, her name a whisper on his breath. She smiled, holding him close to her.

"I'm sorry, Mulder," she whispered against his ear, her lips touching his ear lobe.

"For what?" he asked, nuzzling her neck and rolling her onto her back. She moaned when his lips brushed her neck, clenching her fingers in her hair and arching against him.

She moaned as his lips brushed her neck, her hands moving to the back of his head and her fingers curling in his hair.

He murmured something unintelligible against her throat as his fingers combed through her hair. "You taste good," he breathed, his lips warm and wet against her ear.

"Mulder," she whispered, but the words were swallowed when his lips touched hers. She sighed; his mouth was gentle on hers, sweet. His stubble scraped against her skin when he moved, his weight settling over her, warm and heavy and real.

Real. This was so real.

He was devouring her, she thought, closing her eyes and moaning against mouth. Devouring her and pulling her in so deep she didn't think she'd ever find her way out again. Didn't want to find her way out again.

Fingers pushed under her pajamas, warm hands caressing her skin and tickling her ribs. She stroked him in return, opening her mouth to his and letting him pull her in deeper, his tongue twisting inelegantly with hers, desperation driving them further than finesse could.

He rocked against her, hard and hot and ready and she groaned, parting her legs and letting him settle. Hot wires of molten fire pulled her insides tight and pooled at her center; she ached for him. Ached with fear and want and she needed him more than she needed to breathe.

His lips were on her breast, suckling roughly, fiercely, his teeth scraping the sensitive skin until she cried out softly, her whispered moans muffled against the pillow.

Fingers scraped through her curls, pushing damp fabric down and away and she clawed greedily at his boxers, pushing until he sprang free and pressed against her, pulsing with life and heat and affirmation. His teeth bit into her shoulder, and she wrapped herself around him as he slid into her, filling her, stretching her. Scully groaned, her breathing heavy and his scent hot against her skin.

When he rocked, her world tilted, and when she came the bottom fell out and she was spinning through darkness clutching him close while he muffled her sobs with his mouth, his own release frantic and violent inside her, hot and thick.

He rolled out of her when their breathing settled, and she was left sticky and worn and alone on the wet sheets. She scrambled off the bed, pulling her panties up from her ankles and tugging her pajama shirt back down.

"Scully," he rasped in his throat, his breathing ragged in the stifling stillness of the room.

"No, Mulder," she gasped, horrified at her breathlessness.

"Scully," he protested, dazed.

Beneath her feet the carpet was thick and warm. She curled her toes tightly against it, rocking on the balls of her feet as she stared at him still lying in the bed, fighting the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. She was damp and sticky and her tears were stinging her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually, breaking the silence between them. "I'm sorry, Scully. I won't do that again. I promise." He tried to meet her gaze, but she avoided his, choosing instead to stare over his shoulder at the dark wall behind him. "Come back to bed, Scully," he said, defeated.

She wanted to, but fear was winning.

"I need a drink," she whispered. His eyes burnt into her as she walked across the room, and she shut the bathroom door behind her gratefully, leaning against it for a few seconds while her pulse settled and her breathing slowed.

At the mirror she gazed into her reflection, studying the woman staring back at her. Pale skin, stormy blue eyes and swollen red lips; red like blood. Staring at herself, she lifted her fingers to her lips.

The skin beneath her nose was clean and pale, but she remembered the crimson stains vividly. She had stopped wearing colours to work again, and lived in dark jackets and shirts that hid evidence of blood stains.

She didn't want to wear black again.

She licked her lips, and tasted Mulder.

Oh, God. What had she done?

* * *

She was a coward. She'd stayed in the bathroom until she was sure Mulder was asleep, and then she snuck out and spent the night trying to sleep on the sofa. Now, even before the sun rose or Adam cried for his morning feed, she was up and making use of the large bathroom at the end of the hall, well away from the room Mulder was in. 

The water from the shower was hot, stinging against her skin as it washed away the emotion of the night. Scully sighed, rolled her head back on her neck and let the water pound against her throat and over her chest.

Tired. She was damn tired. All she wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep for a hundred years. But she couldn't do that, she had a baby to look after. She turned around to let the needle-like spray rinse the shampoo out of her hair, and dropped her head forward to let the water massage her neck.

Droplets, rich and dark, fell like black tears to the floor of the shower where they shattered into red slashes that were quickly gathered up and swirled away by the hot water.

"Shit," Scully swore, clamping her fingers over her nose and tipping her head back, fumbling with the taps to try and stop the water. The world started spinning and she staggered dizzily, leaning against the wall, the tiles slick and cold against her hot skin.


	11. Chapter 11

**11.**

Adam's cries woke Mulder from his sleep, loud and demanding in the still air of the morning. Outside was still dark, but the silver cracks highlighting the clouds indicated dawn wasn't far off. Pulling himself to his feet, Mulder went to his son, grateful for the thick carpeting that kept his feet relatively warm in the cold air.

He frowned as he picked Adam up, looking around for Scully who would normally be with the baby already. She was nowhere to be seen, and given the events of the previous night, Mulder wasn't entirely surprised. She was probably in the kitchen, warming his bottle, he thought, leaving the room and making his way to the kitchen.

She wasn't there, and she wasn't sleeping on the sofa either – even though the blanket and pillow he found there indicated it was where she had spent the remainder of her night.

"For something so small he makes a big noise," Krycek complained as he appeared in the kitchen several seconds after Mulder started heating Adam's bottle. "Can't you get it to shut up?"

"He's hungry, Krycek," Mulder said calmly. "Have you seen Scully?"

"Not in bed anymore?"

"No," Mulder said curtly, checking the temperature of the bottle. "She's probably in the shower. Make yourself useful, Krycek, and get the coffee going."

By the time Adam finished his bottle and was burped, there was still no sign of Scully. Laying the baby down carefully in the portable crib, Mulder left Krycek in the kitchen and went in search of her.

"Scully?" he called. "Scully, where are you?"

He knocked on the bathroom door at the end of the hall, and when there was no answer he tried to open it. It was locked. "Scully?" he called, knocking again. Concern blossomed in his gut when she failed to respond.

The small lock on the door was nowhere near strong enough to withstand the force of him when he threw his body against the door; it clattered to the tiled floor noisily as the door fell open and let him into the room. The shower screen was pulled shut, water droplets on the glass and mirror evidence of a recent hot shower. There was a blurred outline at the bottom on the screen; her skin appearing peach against the rippled glass.

He turned cold inside and yanked the screen open, swearing as he saw the blood and the water and her limp body sprawled awkwardly inside the stall. Her skin was cold to touch, her face caked with blood and her body still damp.

"Scully, come on," he whispered, pulling her out of the stall and gathering her in his arms.

"Shit," he heard Krycek hiss. "What's wrong with her?"

"Get me some towels, Krycek!" Mulder snapped, checking for breathing and then a pulse. The soft puff of air against his cheek as she breathed and the flutter of her pulse against his fingertips reassured him, but her skin was cold and wet and bloody.

He picked her up and carried her to the room they'd shared. She moved when he placed her on her bed rubbed her dry with a towel, covering her with the blankets once she was dry.

"That's it," he said gently, "come on, Scully, open your eyes for me."

A soft groan escaped from her lips and her eyelids fluttered, the pasty white of her skin contrasting vividly with the deep hue of her blood and the bright blue of her eyes when they finally opened.

"Mulder?" she whispered, blinking in confusion.

"Hey," he whispered just as quietly, brushing a cold, wet lock of hair off her forehead and tucking it behind her ear in a familiar gesture.

"What happened?" she murmured.

"I think you fainted," he said gently, tucking her hair behind her ears. "God, you scared me Scully. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, then frowned. "Why's the baby crying?"

"He needs a change," Mulder said. "Are you warm?"

"I'm fine, Mulder," she slurred, her eyes fluttering closed. "I'm cold."

"Krycek, we need to get her to a hospital," Mulder said desperately.

"We can't, Mulder, they'll know where you are then," Krycek pointed out.

"I'm going to get help," he said.

"No, I'm fine. I'm just cold and the baby's crying. Why's the baby crying, Mulder?"

"I'll get the baby for you, Scully," Mulder soothed, brushing a kiss across her forehead. "You just stay still, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed easily, her eyes fluttering shut.

Fear twisted and turned and grew inside him, dark and encompassing as he stared down at her lying so still on the bed.

"What's wrong with her?" Krycek demanded.

"She's dying," Mulder whispered. "She's dying, Krycek, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it."

"I hate to sound like I don't care, Mulder, but we have to move. We can't stay here."

"I know," Mulder said. "I know."

* * *

Everything inside him screamed to get Scully to a hospital, but Krycek had refused, and when Scully woke as he carried her to the car she also opposed his suggestion.

"I'm fine, Mulder," she said calmly. "I'm just tired. I can sleep in the car; there's nothing they can do for me at a hospital anyway."

One step forward and a marathon backwards, Mulder thought, glancing into the rear-view mirror and watching as Scully attempted to pacify an unusually difficult Adam. Some days he thought he knew where he stood with Scully; he could define their relationship easily and play his part perfectly. Other days, he misinterpreted horrifically and screwed up unintentionally.

And then he just plain over-stepped the mark, like last night.

Glancing at her reflection again, he sighed. Seemed he was getting exceptionally good at reading the wrong signals into Scully's behaviour.

Six years together, and she had never indicated that she felt anything more for him than a deep affection, friendship and a love he found difficult to quantify.

She'd wanted a baby with him, but the methods had nothing to do with the act of love and everything to do with a test tube. Fair enough, conventional methods wouldn't have been successful, but maybe procreation wasn't the only reason for conventional methods.

Had he been wrong in thinking she wanted him?

His fingers drummed anxiously on the wheel, gnawing on his lip thoughtfully.

"Where are we going, Krycek?" Scully asked from the back, her voice laced with a crankiness Mulder knew was due to exhaustion. Concern tugged at him, and he allowed himself a quick scrutiny. She was too pale, dark circles under her eyes. Her eyes met his in the mirror for a quick second, before she broke and looked away.

"Just keep driving, Mulder," Krycek responded.

"We've been driving for hours, Krycek, and I want to know where we're going," Scully snapped in irritation.

"We'll stop soon, Scully," Mulder promised.

"I don't want to stop soon, Mulder, I want to know where the hell we're going. I want to know why we're even listening to this man!"

"Because I'm going save your son," Krycek reminded her.

"So you keep saying, but I have yet to see what you're going to save him from. We only have your word that he's in danger, and the further we go the more I start to wonder if maybe the danger to Adam isn't you."

"Why would I – What are you doing, Mulder?" Krycek questioned sharply as Mulder pulled over to the side of the road, gravel crunching under the wheels.

"Scully's right. Before we go any further you're going to give us the answers we want."

"I will explain everything, but you have to keep driving," Krycek insisted. "You can't stop here."

"Why not?" Scully demanded.

"It's safer stopping in populated areas. They're less likely to attack there because right now only a few people know what they are and what they're doing. If they attack in the middle of a city or a suburb it won't take long until everyone knows who and what they are."

"Why make us leave Washington then?" Mulder demanded.

"They knew you were there. They know exactly where you are."

"How?"

Krycek smiled a twisted smirk. "You don't honestly think that chip in the base of Scully's neck only stopped the cancer?"


	12. Chapter 12

**12.**

The apartment was empty, just as Skinner had almost anticipated it would be. His insides clenched unforgivingly as he gazed around the abandoned room, not certain whether he was relieved or concerned with Mulder's apparent absence.

"Agent Scully isn't answering her phone either, sir," an agent informed him, coming a standstill beside him.

"Send Holt and Jamieson around to her apartment," Skinner said after a second. "If she's there, ask her if she knows anything."

"You don't think she'll be there, sir?" Barrett asked.

"I honestly can't say, Agent," Skinner murmured. "For all we know, they've both gone on vacation."

Barrett looked doubtful, but he was smart enough not to press the matter further. "I'll get Holt and Jamieson, sir."

Skinner nodded, still observing the room. He frowned, his eyes narrowing as they settled on something strange. Something very out of place for Fox Mulder's apartment. Lying on the kitchen cupboard next to the microwave was a small, bright object. A pacifier.

Why on earth did Fox Mulder have a pacifier in his kitchen?

* * *

"There's no sign of Agent Mulder or Agent Scully at either of their apartments," Skinner reported to Kersh.

"Convenient how they chose to disappear at this time," Kersh said calmly, pursing his lips.

"Both of them are suspended from duty, sir," Skinner pointed out, "I can't see anything strange in them taking a vacation for these few days."

"Agent Mulder is a possible murder suspect," Kersh said. "It's very suspicious that he chose to disappear at this time."

Skinner said nothing; his only response was to readjust the position of his glasses over the bridge of his nose.

"Excuse me, sir," Agent Barrett said, approaching them. "I think I may have some information on where Agent Mulder and Agent Scully are."

"Yes?" Kersh said expectantly.

"Their credit cards were used to by tickets to San Diego, and then again to secure a hire car. Flight SD 478, which landed yesterday evening at 7:12."

"So, they just can't stay away," Kersh murmured. "Good work, Agent. Alert the San Diego field office that Assistant Director Skinner will be joining them shortly to head the investigation."

"Investigation, sir?" Skinner demanded.

"Agent Mulder and Agent Scully were suspended from active duty because of their misuse and abuse of their position within the FBI. If they're continuing on with their unorthodox investigation, they will have to face the consequences of their actions."

"You want me to get them and drag them back here like a pair of naughty children," Skinner said blandly.

"As long as you find them, I don't care how you bring them back," Kersh said.

* * *

"Open up," Skinner demanded, banging on the door. "Damn it, Frohike, it's me, Skinner. Open the damn door!"

"What do you want?" Frohike yelled from inside.

"I need to talk to you about Mulder, now open the door!"

A few seconds of hesitation passed, before Skinner finally heard the grating sounds of locks being snapped open and dead bolts pulled back. The door swung open, revealing a short man framed by a dark room. "What the hell are you doing here?" Frohike demanded. "You know how bad this looks, you coming to see us?"

"I'm well aware of how bad it looks," Skinner grunted, pushing past Frohike and entering the room. "I need to know what's going on."

"What do you mean?" Byers hedged.

Skinner stared at the tallest Gunmen coldly. "What the hell are Mulder and Scully playing at? They've got the entire Bureau out looking for them, and Mulder's under suspicion of murder. I'm supposed to be on a flight to San Diego in three hours to look for them, and I'd at least like to know what I'm getting myself into."

The Gunmen glanced at each other, a silent conference.

"Who's side are you on?" Langly asked bluntly.

Skinner hesitated.

"Mulder didn't murder anyone," Frohike said. "I don't trust you, Skinner, but Mulder does. You should trust Mulder."

"I do," Skinner muttered.

"He's not in San Diego," Byers said quietly. "Scully isn't either. They've gone underground."

"Why?" Skinner asked. "The murder investigation? Mulder will be cleared in a matter of days – the evidence simply isn't there. Barrett and the rest of the FBI are grabbing at straws, and as usual Mulder's the scapegoat. There's no need for him to run from this investigation."

The men glanced at each other uneasily again, reluctant to tell him the truth.

"I can't cover for Mulder unless I know what I'm supposed to be hiding," Skinner pointed out.

"The information Scully had on the clinics in San Diego didn't come up entirely empty, the way she first thought it did," Byers said finally. "We found something."

"What?" Skinner asked.

"Another child."

"Like the girl Scully found last year?" Skinner asked, confused.

Again, there was a silent conference before Frohike spoke. "They didn't tell you the significance of Emily, did they?"

"What sort of significance."

"Where she came from," Byers supplied cryptically.

"Not entirely, no," Skinner admitted. "Their reports rarely tell me anything," he added ruefully.

"Emily was the result of a genetic experiment," Frohike said cautiously. "And we found another baby created in almost the same way."

It took Skinner three seconds to work it out. "You stole the child?" He exclaimed.

"More like took the child back," Langly corrected.

"What do you mean?"

This time the silence was more a reluctance to speak the words, rather than a debate on how much to reveal. Eventually, Frohike sighed. "Emily was Scully's daughter, Skinner. This child is their son. Both of them."

Skinner found his jaw working, as though trying to form a sentence, but there weren't any words he could string together to be coherent.

"We're not exactly sure why they've gone underground now," Frohike continued, almost gently. "Mulder said something about the baby – Adam – being in danger."

"Where are they?" Skinner asked quietly.

"We don't know," Frohike said. "We placed the credit trail there for you to find, so they'd have a head start on the run. They'll contact us when it calms down, but that's all we know."

Skinner nodded. "Thank you for telling me," he said softly.

"Skinner?" Byers said as Skinner turned to leave.

"Yeah?"

"We'll keep the trail warm for you."

Skinner smiled. "I'll stay two steps behind," he promised.

* * *

**12b**

The cold of the winter night bit through his jacket with icy teeth, making his bones ache. He was getting old, he thought ruefully. Too old to be running around doing the dirty work, so to speak. The long shadows of pillars were oily black in the parking lot of the San Diego office. He moved through the dark pools easily, his footsteps muffled by the dark and his thoughts hidden.

"Didn't think you were going to show," he murmured when he caught sight of his companion.

Skinner was leaning against a pillar, his bald head gleaming dully in the glaring fluorescent lights over head. Spender avoided the lights, staying in the shadows.

"What do you want?" Skinner demanded, his voice as gruff as Spender remembered it. He'd always thought of it as a mellow oak timbre, something that oozed authority and assurance and a walk on the straight and narrow.

God, Skinner was anything but straight and narrow. Spender chuckled at the thought.

"Hurry it up," Skinner snapped.

"Patience, Walter, patience," Spender called to him. "You're always in such a hurry."

Skinner didn't respond, but Spender could see his jaw working in frustration, the movements casting small shadows across his cheeks and neck.

"I want Mulder and Scully," Spender said softly, watching Skinner.

The Assistant Director's eyes flicked toward him sharply, the gaze piercing in its intensity. "Why?" he demanded.

"You don't ask why, Skinner, you just do what I tell you," Spender warned, reaching for a cigarette.

"I don't know where they are," Skinner admitted. "Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

Spender smiled in the dark. "Well, then you'd better find them, Skinner."

"Kersh has the whole fucking Bureau looking for them, and he can't find them. What makes you think I can find them?"

"They'll let you find them. You know how to find them," Spender said pointedly. "And if you don't…"

The small control was cold and heavy in his fingers, but Spender didn't fumble with the settings. Skinner groaned in pain, his knees buckling, and sank to the ground clutching at his chest.

"You don't think Krycek had the brains to secure this technology by himself, do you?" he said when Skinner finally looked up at him, stunned. "It's imperative that you find them, Skinner," he whispered, dropping the device into his pocket and stepping back.

Skinner was breathing heavily, his breath condensing into small puffs of cloud as he fought to recover. Spender watched as the younger man pulled himself to his feet, dusting off the long black coat and staring at him with undisguised hatred. Sweat glistened on the bald head, and Spender felt a frisson of disgust flutter through him.

Only when Skinner turned his back and walked away did Spender leave, still cold and damp and in pain.


	13. Chapter 13

**13.**

Scully was asleep on the backseat, her head resting against the edge of Adam's seat and her left hand draped across the baby's middle. Satisfied they were both okay in the back, Mulder turned his attention back to the envelope he held in his hands. Their new lives printed on fresh white paper with dark black ink. New identities, new memories, new futures.

Futures.

"They're not just going to disappear if you face the front for more than five minutes at a time, Mulder," Krycek said blithely, not taking his eyes off the road.

"I've had too many things disappear from right under my nose, Krycek, to believe that statement. Especially coming from you."

"I like you, Mulder," Krycek said. "I always know where I stand with you, and that's something I don't find in my usual circles."

"Your usual circles make the sewage tunnels look like a palace," Mulder pointed out.

Krycek shrugged, flipping on the indicator with his fingers and pulling smoothly into an exit. "You've shared those circles with me a few times," Krycek pointed out, "and it looks like we're sharing again."

"I'm not sure why I'm evening listening to you," Mulder muttered, closing his eyes. "I think I've lost my mind."

"You're listening to me because I'm telling the truth," Krycek said. "You heard it yourself ten minutes ago. They're after you, and I guarantee that the murder accusations are only a smokescreen."

Mulder sighed. "You keep telling us that you're telling the truth, that you're going to help us keep Adam safe, that this is to save everyone, but you haven't actually explained anything to me yet."

"Such as?"

"How? How did this entire situation just happen?" Mulder asked. "I mean, one day Scully gets papers to go to San Diego. We find nothing, and get suspended. All of a sudden a baby appears, a man is burnt alive and I'm under suspicion, and a group of esteemed scientists is also found burned alive at a train yard, of all places, while Cassandra Spender is found alive among them, and then murdered. And then you appear, claim to want to help and whisk us all off on a road-trip to nowhere."

Krycek remained silent for a few minutes. "When you put it like that, Mulder, it sounds like and Scully were just innocent bystanders who just happened to get mixed up in the whole situation."

"Weren't we?" Mulder countered.

"Neither of you were innocent bystanders," Krycek said. "The minute you found the X Files you became a part of the game, and the minute Scully decided to stand by your side and ignore her orders to shut you down, she became a part of the game."

"You still haven't told me why this has all happened. What's the purpose to it all?"

Krycek chuckled. "There are so many purposes and agendas and reasons that none of them make any sense anymore. Your child, Mulder, holds the key to the vaccination we need as a human race to survive. The Consortium made a deal with the devil, so to speak, to buy time and shot themselves in the foot when they decline an alliance with the rebels. Now the rebels want your son, because he is what they need, and the Consortium want your son because he is what they need. The Consortium can't be trusted though – there are Rebels and Colonists who infiltrated it long ago, and know all the 'secret' plans the Consortium have to doublecross them. If we can keep Adam out of their hands – all of them – and we can isolate the genes behind the natural immunity, maybe we stand a chance."

"Given the circumstances, Krycek, I find your story plausible," Mulder conceded.

"But?"

"I still don't understand why you're helping us. What's your real interest in Adam, Krycek?"

"I told you, it's personal," Krycek said. "I don't want to be wiped out when the Colonists get tired of the games and take this planet, and I don't want the Rebels burning me alive to prevent the Colonists from expanding their ranks. Either way, I lose. This way, I win."

"I still don't believe you."

Krycek just shrugged.

* * *

"He wants to use Adam," Scully said softly, her voice surprising him.

"Scully?"

"He wants to use Adam as a lab rat. A monkey. For research."

"What if he's right, Scully?"

"Even if he's right, Mulder, can you justify using Adam like that? Treating him like a human blood and tissue bank?"

Mulder sighed, rubbing at his hair. "I don't know what to think, Scully. All I know is Krycek is right, I can't go back because the minute I surface they'll have me locked up before I can even breathe."

"What do you mean?"

"They've got a national search underway for us. Me specifically, but you feature pretty heavily too. Apparently you're my right hand woman."

"What do we do now, Mulder?"

"What we planned to do," Mulder said, lifting the envelope. "Our new lives," he explained.

"What about Adam?"

Mulder smiled. "They've been updated to include Adam," Mulder said. "In fact, they've been completely updated. Take a look."

She took the envelope from him, looking nervous. "Where's Krycek?"

"He's getting food," Mulder said. "And paying for the gas."

There was silence in the car as Scully opened the envelope and pulled out the new documents. "Married, Mulder?" she asked, frowning.

"The perfect family," Mulder said dryly.

"Married?" Scully repeated. "Mulder, I thought we agreed to individual new IDs. What if we need to separate?"

"Frohike thought it was safer this way," Mulder said simply. "We're a ready made family, Scully. Everyone is looking for Mulder and Scully, not Mom and Dad and Junior."

He heard her sigh.

"We're sticking together, Scully," Mulder added softly as Krycek stepped out of the store and headed back toward the car.

"We may not have a choice, Mulder," she whispered so he barely heard the words.

They fell silent as Krycek opened the car door. "There's a motel three miles back," Krycek said. "I think we should stay there tonight."


	14. Chapter 14

**14.**

"I don't trust him, Mulder," Scully said softly, pressing her cheek against the warmth of Adam's body as he was cradled in her arms.

"I don't either, Scully, but can we risk it if he is telling the truth?" Mulder replied.

She sighed heavily, her breath escaping in a fine mist of condensation. "Maybe," she said. "Maybe you should just take Adam and go, Mulder. If they are tracing us through the chip…"

"I'm not leaving you, Scully."

"Then we're taking it out," she said firmly. "The cancer's back, Mulder, so the chip isn't doing what it's supposed to do anymore, if it even cured the cancer in the first place. Take it out, and at least we don't have to worry about them following us anymore."

"Is it safe?" he asked doubtfully.

"It's superficial, Mulder, right beneath my epidermis. All you have to do is nick my skin and fish it out with a pair of tweezers. I have some in my bag."

"You sure?" he questioned.

"I don't know what else to try, Mulder," she admitted. "Just take it out."

She heard him walking away from her, his footsteps seeming loud in the quiet night air. Holding Adam against her, rocking his soft warmth, she stared up at the stars. They winked and flickered brightly, cold, hard points of light thousands of years old.

Mulder had once asked her if she believed in the existence of extraterrestrials, and she'd all but laughed in his face. Now she found herself staring up at the heavens and wondering which star their planet orbited around, or if they even had a planet.

The sound of Mulder's footsteps interrupted her whimsical thoughts, and she turned to watch him walk toward her. His shoulders were uncharacteristically hunched. With his face hidden in the shadows of the night, she couldn't read his expression, but she knew him well enough to know what he was thinking.

He was worried. Worried about her, about the cancer, the chip, Adam, the Rebels, Krycek.

He was confused by her. Unsure of how to act around her. Wary.

She'd destroyed the comfort around them, she thought tiredly, broken it by her sudden affinity for running from situations that scared her. The emotional implications a relationship with Mulder held terrified her; she didn't know if she wanted to lose herself so completely. She had never, ever enjoyed giving up control and letting her emotions dictate her actions, and with Mulder that's exactly what happened. Instead of behaving and acting logically, she became irrational, did things she would never normally allow herself to do.

Felt things she couldn't control.

And she didn't want to lose him, and so lose a part of herself either.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said softly when he stopped in front of her.

"Not worth that much," she said lightly. "You have the tweezers?"

"Here. Do I have to sterilise anything?"

"You should," she agreed absently, "but I don't have anything with me. If you have a match just hold the blade and tweezers in it for a few seconds. Let them cool before you cut," she warned, turning her back to him.

The acrid tang of burning phosphate accompanied the hiss of a match being lit, and she waited patiently. Several seconds later, she felt his hand alight on her shoulder. "You ready?" he asked.

She nodded silently, gritting her teeth and unconsciously tightening her hold on Adam.

It stung sharply when he made the initial cut, pain radiating hotly down her neck when he started digging in her skin with the tweezers. He was no surgeon, and his lack of finesse made her grunt with pain.

"Sorry, Scully," he apologised. "Hold on, I've got it."

He pressed down heavily on her neck with something, and the spurt of pain made her grunt again, but then it was almost gone, only a stinging sensation accompanying a dull ache. "Thanks," she whispered, catching her breath.

"It's still bleeding," he cautioned. "Give it a few more minutes."

She stood silently while he pressed the back of her neck, focusing on her breathing. Eventually he lifted his hand and pronounced it okay. She moved her head cautiously; her wound stung in complaint, but it was bearable.

"Thank you, Mulder," she said again, turning to face him.

He was looking at the chip in his hand. Only the light of a streetlamp several feet away reached them, and the chip was nothing more than a dark, glistening stain on the palm of his hand. "Throw it away," she ordered. "We don't need it anymore."

"Scully," he said.

"No, Mulder. Just throw it away. It's over."

He nodded mutely, turning and leaving her standing on the sidewalk with Adam in her arms and blood on her neck.

* * *

She slept restlessly, her neck alternatively aching and itching, imaginings of infections and green cysts rupturing disturbed her dreams. When she woke gasping for breath, the sheets were damp and sticky around her, the room empty and dark.

She slipped a robe on, running shaking fingers through her thick hair, and went in search of Mulder and Adam, ignoring the pounding of her heart in her chest.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, finding them in the kitchenette of the motel room. Mulder's feet and chest were bare and Adam was lying happily in his arms.

"He was restless," Mulder said softly, "like you."

She shrugged. "Everything's okay?" she asked.

He nodded, turning his gaze out over the kitchen sink. "I can see the ocean from here; the moon's that bright tonight."

Unbidden, her feet moved her across the floor to stand beside him. "I was looking at the stars earlier," she admitted, "wondering which star it is."

He didn't ask her to clarify, understanding what she meant. "Some legends say that starlight is where souls live."

Scully smiled, looking up at the silver light. "It's a nice thought," she agreed.

"I used to wish it was true," Mulder admitted, "because it meant if Samantha was dead then at least she'd be somewhere beautiful."

"Do you think she's dead?" Scully asked softly.

Mulder sighed. "I don't know, Scully. Sometimes. And then I find another piece of the puzzle and all of a sudden the hope's back, the strongest hope that she's still out there and that I can find her."

She wanted to tell him that she'd help him find Samantha, but the words refused to form because she didn't believe it. Her body was aching and her spirit was tired; she didn't have long to go. Instead, she slipped her hand around his arm, leaning against him for a few seconds. "Maybe you will find her," she said instead, watching the stars as they glowed brightly. "And then you can tell her about the starlight."

"I love you, Scully," Mulder whispered.

She smiled, pressing her cheek against his arm, turning her head to kiss his skin before facing the stars again. "I know, Mulder," she said softly. "And you know I love you."

"I wonder sometimes," he said cautiously, not moving.

"Don't," she said simply. "I… I just get scared."

"Everyone does."

She smile against his skin. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Why are you apologising?"

She didn't answer, staring at the stars. They seemed brighter, bigger, closer than before.

"Mulder," she whispered, frowning.

"What?"

"I think they're coming."

He stiffened against her, tensing. The starlight grew brighter, and Scully felt a rush of panic flow through her.

"Run, Scully," Mulder ordered, jerking against her and pushing her toward the door. "Run!"

* * *

Her feet were soft and tender, not used to the jagged surfaces of stones and sticks hidden in the shadows of the trees. Branches whipped across her face, stinging her cheeks and tugging at her hair. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and she fought to keep up with Mulder as he sprinted through the dark forest.

"MULDER!" she screamed, stumbling over a root and crashing to the ground. Her hands and knees burnt, her pulse thundering in her ears.

"SCULLY!" His echoing yell bounced through the darkness, and she heard his panting breathing before she saw his darkened form appear through the trees. "Get up!" he demanded, reaching for her and grabbing hold of her hand.

Holding her hand, he ran with her through the trees, his breathing loud and jagged.

"MULDER! SCULLY!"

"Krycek," Mulder grunted, realising before she did who was calling. "HERE!" he bellowed.

Adam started crying, fear giving strength to his wails. His screaming mixed with the panting of Mulder's breath and the crashing of their bodies through the undergrowth.

Krycek appeared, a shadow to Scully's left, his breathing just as ragged as theirs. "They're here," he grunted unnecessarily.

"What do we do?" Mulder demanded, slowing his strides and dropping to a walk, fighting for breath and rocking Adam ineffectually against his chest.

"Water," Krycek gasped. "We get to the water. Their fire doesn't work in the water."

But they'd already been heading toward the water, Scully thought hysterically, running downhill through wild growth with a baby and no shoes and no light and they were going to get themselves killed.

The world lit up around them, orange light that smelt of smoke and flames and fear. The forest exploded into to life, birds screaming and the hissing of burning wood popping through the night sky.

"Faster!" Krycek urged, "faster!"

Scully was crying, her breath burning in her throat, hacking breaths of air that splintered her lungs with smoke.

"Holy shit!" Mulder exclaimed breathlessly as they burst out of the woods onto a small clearing. A cliff top, she thought wildly, fighting for breath, smoke burning her eyes and tears rolling stickily down her cheeks, mixing with the blood trickling thickly from her nose. "What now?"

"Start climbing down," Krycek said firmly.

Scully wanted to protest, but she couldn't. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't stand. Her legs buckled beneath her, and the world swayed and blurred.

"Scully?" Mulder asked, his face appearing over her. "Scully!"

"Give me the baby, Mulder, and take her," Krycek said.

No! Not Krycek!

She felt Mulder picking her up, the world spinning crazily with orange light and smoke and moving stars. Krycek was holding Adam with his arm, just standing there.

Her baby. What about her baby?

"Scully, I need you to hold on," Mulder said grimly.

She held on, because he asked her to, her arms locking around his chest and her legs curling around his waist.

Her baby. Adam.

"Give him to me, Krycek," Mulder said.

"I'll be fine, Mulder."

"You can't climb with one hand and hold him!" Mulder argued.

"You can't go with Scully and Adam. You have to choose," Krycek said.

Adam, Scully thought, choose Adam. Choose Adam.

"How will you manage?"

"In my jacket," Krycek said. "I'll put him in my jacket."

There were people coming out of the trees, Scully realised, people with no faces and weapons and they were burning her and her baby was with Krycek.

"GO!" Krycek screamed, pushing Mulder.

And then they were falling, the sky orange and black and starlit and she could see Krycek at the top of the cliff still holding her baby. The water was cold and she hurt she couldn't breathe and she could see Krycek on the cliff with an orange sky and her baby and the aliens.

Scully closed her eyes and sank into the water; it was dark and cold and she was so tired.

* * *

_Swallowed up in the sound of my screaming  
__Cannot cease for the fear of silent nights  
__Oh how I long for the deep sleep dreaming  
__The goddess of imaginary light_

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

**15.**

Skinner rubbed at his face tiredly, stifling a yawn behind his large hands and glancing at his wristwatch. 1:03am. He really should go home, he thought logically, go home, get some sleep and have a shower. Then come back tomorrow morning.

Yes. Home sounded good.

He shifted in his chair, cursing hospitals for only having uncomfortable chairs, and glanced at his watch again. 1:03am. Funny, he'd have thought some time would have passed.

In the dimly lit room shadows cast by the luminescent screens of monitoring equipment flickered across the floor, the hushed sound of footsteps and life passing by the doors still managing to creep in beneath the heavy door.

On the bed, Mulder lay still and unmoving, his heart rate steady and his breathing constant.

Skinner could only wonder how a man they had been chasing for two days managed to end up washed onto a beach in his pyjamas and a battered woman in his arms.

1:05am.

Skinner yawned again; this was getting ridiculous. This time he really was going home. He rose to his feet slowly, stretching kinked back muscles and working his shoulders to re-establish movement. Maybe he'd check in on Scully before he went though, assuming they let him into the ICU this time.

He'd picked up his coat and slung it over his arm when he noticed the small movements on the bed.

"Mulder?" he said, moving to stand beside the man.

A soft moan issued from the bed, and Mulder's eyelids fluttered in the dim light.

"Mulder?" Skinner said again, watching intently.

"Oh," Mulder groaned, his eyes opening a crack.

"How're you feeling?" Skinner asked softly.

"Skinner?" Mulder mumbled, frowning.

"Yeah, it's me. How are you doing, Mulder?"

"I'm okay," Mulder said instantly.

"What happened?"

"We were running," Mulder whispered as his eyes closed. "Running from them. They wanted Adam."

"Adam?"

"Our baby."

Skinner felt his eyebrows hike a few metres up his forehead. "They wanted your baby, Mulder?"

"Yeah. Krycek had him. Scully didn't want to- Scully!" Mulder gasped, his eyes flying open, panicked. "Scully. Where is she?"

"Easy, Mulder," Skinner cautioned. "She's here."

"Is she okay?" Mulder demanded.

"She's sick, Mulder," Skinner said warily.

"I know," Mulder said, closing his eyes. "We took the chip out. I want to see her, Skinner."

"You can't, Mulder. You're under house arrest, and you're in no condition to go anywhere. Now get some sleep, I'm going to call a doctor."

"I need to see her," Mulder insisted, but his words were slurred and his eyes couldn't stay open.

"I know, Mulder, and you will," Skinner promised. "Just take it easy now."

The words were unheard though, and Skinner found himself sighing as he stared down at the sleeping man again. Shaking his head slightly, he pulled his coat on and left the room quietly to find a doctor and let them know that Mulder had woken for a few minutes.

* * *

He could hear Mulder three doors before he reached Mulder's room. The model patient, as usual, was demanding to see Scully.

Skinner flashed his ID briefly at the new guard on duty and entered the room quickly. "Mulder," he said sharply before Mulder could form his next sentence, "you aren't going anywhere until we have some answers."

Mulder snapped his mouth shut and gazed obstinately at Skinner.

The young nurse, her mouth tight with barely disguised annoyance, glanced over at Skinner before turning back to Mulder. "Will that be all, Mr. Mulder?"

"Yes, thanks," Mulder said shortly, glowering as the nurse retreated from the room and left him alone with Skinner. "Am I under arrest, Skinner?" he asked pointedly.

"Good morning, Mulder, it's nice to see you too," Skinner responded politely. "Mulder, where the hell have you been?"

"East Coast, Sir," Mulder responded innocently.

Skinner sighed, rubbing at his face. "Mulder, do you understand the seriousness of this situation?" Skinner asked tiredly. "Kersh is going to be in this afternoon along with several members of the review board to find out what happened – they're saying you murdered a Derek Smithton."

Mulder flinched slightly, sucking his breath in sharply, but he didn't answer.

"Mulder, I can't help you unless you talk to me. Delusional excuses about children and Krycek just aren't going to be accepted by the board."

"They're not delusional," Mulder muttered, closing his eyes. "Krycek had Adam. He didn't jump."

Skinner frowned. "I need you to tell me what happened, Mulder," he said softly. "Now, while you have a fair audience. Maybe I can do something to help you if I know what you did."

Mulder chuckled bitterly, the laughter dying abruptly as his face contorted with pain. He cradled his right arm protectively, hugging it close.

"What do you want to know?" he asked, sighing.

"What happened – and start at the beginning."

"Someone sent Scully information regarding children produced by her ova."

Skinner flinched. "Oh, God."

"They were all dead, Skinner. All of them. But we had names and dates and clinics to work with. We wanted to destroy them, bring them into the open," Mulder said quietly, shutting his eyes.

"What did you find?"

Mulder chuckled again, careful not to move too much. "Nothing," he said simply. "Absolutely nothing. Kersh found us, and suspended us."

"So what happened?"

Mulder fidgeted uncomfortable with a sheet, evading Skinner's gaze before sighing and meeting it squarely. "Sir, were you aware that Agent Scully underwent IVF treatment over a year ago?"

Skinner's eyebrows hike a few more inches past his nonexistent hair line. "No."

"Well, she did," Mulder said uneasily. "And I… I agreed to help," he added.

Skinner nodded; not unexpected if Scully had gone through IVF. "I wasn't aware that Scully was pregnant," Skinner said. "She didn't show."

"She wasn't," Mulder said softly. "We thought it didn't work. But it did work, only they didn't implant Scully with the embryos. They put them in other women and stole her babies from her again," he said fiercely.

"How do you know this?" Skinner asked. "Can you prove it?"

"Adam was our proof," Mulder said. "He was the link we needed to validate our investigation."

"Then why didn't you come forward with this?" Skinner demanded.

"Because he was our child, Skinner," Mulder said softly. "Our baby. And we had to steal him to get him back. How could we use him as proof, when we weren't supposed to have him in the first place?"

Mulder was right, Skinner knew, it was wrong to use a child as proof. Especially of the evil Mulder and Scully had been trying to uncover.

"Then Krycek came," Mulder continued weakly. "Scully was right. We shouldn't have listened to him."

"What did you do, Mulder?"

"Krycek said Adam was immune to the black oil. That the rebel aliens wanted him because of a natural immunity he had. Something about Scully's ova and my immunity, I don't know. I listened to him, because I was already scared of what could happen, and I made the wrong choice."

"What happened?"

"They came," Mulder said. "They came and we ran, me and Scully and Krycek. With Adam. The forest was burning, and I could see them, so Scully and I jumped, and Krycek was going to jump with Adam. But he didn't jump, Skinner, he didn't jump."

"Mulder, there weren't any casualties found in that forest fire," Skinner said gently. "If you were on the cliffs where that fire was, the only way out was to jump. If Krycek didn't jump, he was burnt."

"No, he wasn't," Mulder argued. "He didn't jump. I saw him, Skinner, he was working with them!"

"Can you prove any of this?" Skinner asked wearily.

"I don't care about proving it!" Mulder yelled. "He's got my son, Skinner! He gave my son to those faceless bastards who go around with a stick and turn people into shish kebabs for the hell of it!"

The reality of Mulder and Scully having a child was not easy for Skinner to comprehend and accept. It was a concept, an ideal, but not a reality. He could not imagine a living, breathing baby which Mulder and Scully valued above their truth.

"Mulder, I don't know what to tell you," Skinner said tiredly. "I don't even know if I believe this story," he admitted. "There's no proof that you or Scully had a child."

"You're wrong," Mulder smirked. "We have Adam's PCRs. Frohike ran full blood works and everything. We've got everything on file; it's in our motel room."

"They've been through your motel room," Skinner said softly. "What was left of it."

Mulder simply stared.

"It was burnt to the ground, Mulder, nothing was left."

"It's okay," Mulder said calmly. "The Gunmen had the original documents too. They found Adam and Byers brought him to us."

Skinner blew his breath out of his mouth noisily, shaking his head in relief. "Then maybe we can prove this, Mulder, and that would change the position you've found yourself in considerably."

"What about Scully?" Mulder questioned instantly.

"Mulder," Skinner started, stopping. "Mulder, she's dying."

"I don't want to hear that."

"The cancer is back, Mulder, and it's metastasised. Unless… unless…" he couldn't finish the sentence.

"I want to see her, Skinner," Mulder said softly. "I need to see her."

Skinner nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

"You have to find him, Skinner. Krycek. He's got Adam, or he knows where he is. I will not lose my son as well."

"I'll try, Mulder, I promise. Now you get some rest."

Mulder nodded reluctantly, but his face was pale and his lips were drawn with pain, so Skinner knew he would do as ordered.


	16. Chapter 16

**16.**

His shoulder hurt; raw and angry pain that ached and thumped and made him want to curl up in a ball and cry until it went away. But he'd be damned if he let Kersh see that.

"Agent Mulder," Kersh said slowly, his words clearly and carefully dictated as always, "I'm going to assume you have a very good explanation for being accused of committing the murder of a well respected scientist."

"Yes, sir," Mulder said confidently, smiling at Kersh. "A very good reason."

Kersh raised his eyebrows, the sincerity as believable as a fairy tale. "Would you care to enlighten us as to your reasons, Agent Mulder?" Kersh asked politely. "We're all very curious to understand why you'd not only be with a murder, but also what your involvement with the burning of victims in the Potomac Yards is."

"I was nowhere near the man who got murdered – I don't even know who it is that was murdered," Mulder informed him. "I've spent the last few days trying to find out why a child who was the result of an IVF procedure was stolen from Agent Scully. Unfortunately, all the evidence I could offer you was destroyed in a fire that decimated our motel room."

"How unfortunate," Kersh murmured, raising his eyebrows.

"Fortunately," Mulder continued blithely, "Assistant Director Skinner is getting my back up files as we speak."

"Oh," Kersh said, evidently surprised. "You actually have proof of these accusations, Agent Mulder?"

"Yes, Sir, I do," Mulder confirmed. "Several documents that are also related to the abduction of women by our government to conduct experiments on them and to steal their ova."

"I assume, Agent Mulder, that you are aware of Cassandra Spender's death," a thin woman questioned from behind Kersh, stepping around him so that Mulder could see her. "If you have evidence of these experiments, it could well tie her murder to this. If you can shed any light on these circumstances, Agent Mulder, I would greatly value your insight into my investigation."

Mulder nodded mutely.

"And when will Assistant Director Skinner have this proof for us?" Kersh questioned.

"Right now," Skinner announced as he pushed into the room. "I've looked through them, Sir," he added, "and it confirms everything Mulder told me this morning."

"The results of the investigation?" Kersh demanded.

Mulder shifted uncomfortably. "Actually, Sir, we didn't find any hard evidence on why Adam was stolen. Those documents offer proof that 'stolen' children created by IVF do exist, and they tie the Parenti Medical Center to them, but there's nothing specific yet."

"What about proof of experiments on women?" the thin woman demanded.

"Proof that Agent Scully's ova were used to create children for experimentation," Mulder said softly. "Genetic proof that can't be denied. We just haven't had sufficient time to gather the final hard evidence, unfortunately."

"Why didn't you come into the open with this the minute you found this information, Agent Mulder?" Kersh demanded.

"Because, with all due respect, sir, you would never have assigned Agent Scully and myself the case, and we are the only two people who understand exactly what it is that these experiments mean. Why it's so important to uncover them."

"Whether you are assigned cases or not is not your decision, Agent Mulder," Kersh said stiffly.

Mulder didn't respond.

"Well, other than the evidence indicating a corruption in the IVF programs of several clinics, and the ethical considerations this has, I don't really see anything else here that helps you, Agent Mulder," the woman said. "Agent Mulder is still facing charges of murder."

"No, he's under suspicion, and the investigative team can in no way prove that he is responsible for Derek Smithton's death," Skinner pointed out. "The evidence found at the crime scene could easily have been planted by someone who wants Mulder out of the way. There isn't any reason to keep him, or Agent Scully for that matter, under house arrest."

"He hasn't been cleared yet," Kersh snapped.

"Nor has he been convicted," the woman reminded him calmly. "I suggest, Deputy Director, that you are a little too quick to condemn Agent Mulder."

"There is still the question of Mulder and Scully wilfully disregarding my orders, even on suspension, and continuing to investigate when they were expressly forbidden to do so."

"Scully and I didn't continue to investigate anything, sir," Mulder inserted. "Adam was found by another party, and given to Scully and myself on the grounds that we were his parents."

"Then what remains are merely minor charges," the woman said airily, "which will be dismissed as soon as these facts come to light in the review panel, Deputy Director. I agree with Assistant Director Skinner; there's no need to keep Agent Mulder or Agent Scully under guard. And you cannot arrest Agent Mulder for murder when he hasn't been found guilty."

Kersh frowned, but nodded his reluctant agreement.

When they filed from the room and left him lying alone on his bed, Mulder closed his eyes and collapsed back against the pillows.

They were right back where they started, he thought dejectedly. Right back with only the faintest hint of proof as it slithered away between their fingers. But the emotional agony… the loss of Adam. Scully's cancer. His fall out with Scully, the possible reconciliation that had been interrupted by the damn aliens…

* * *

They said she hadn't woken since she'd been brought in the morning before, and lying so still and pale before him, he didn't find it hard to believe. Maggie Scully was sleeping on a small cot they'd rolled in for her. He'd entered the room quietly; surprised to see Maggie there, but then realising it was stupid. Of course she'd be there.

Scully's skin was cold beneath his touch; she didn't move. He let his fingers brush through her hair, the red strands falling lightly across her forehead and spilling onto her pillow in a soft dark pool. He let his fingers trail across her brow and linger on the centre of her forehead, as though he was trying to feel the cancer growing there. The cancer killing her.

"You have to ask yourself," someone said, "whether you made the right choice."

Mulder jerked his head up, ignoring the pain that spasmed down his arm and stared disbelievingly at the man standing before him. "You're supposed to be dead," he said bluntly.

The cigarette smoking man chuckled dryly. "Funny how rumours start," he mused.

"Krycek said-" Mulder started.

"Yes, Krycek said a lot, didn't he?"

Mulder snapped his mouth shut.

"Let's take a walk, Mulder," the man invited, stepping out of the doorway.

"What makes you think I want to take a walk with you?" Mulder spat.

"Unless you want to wake Mrs. Scully, I would suggest we continue this conversation somewhere else."

He glanced down at Scully one more time, his fingers brushing the palm of one small hand before he left her side and followed the smoking man down the hall.

"Do you think you made the right choice?"

Mulder frowned. "Which choice is that?"

The man shrugged. "Pick a choice and decide. Running away with Scully and thinking we wouldn't find you, or choosing Scully over your son when you had to trust Krycek."

The words stung, and Mulder swallowed.

"Do you know where he is?" Mulder asked.

"You won't ever find him, Mulder," the man said, and Mulder was wary of the sincerity in his tone. "He's gone now."

"What about the others?"

"The program is in ruins, Mulder. Your children will never be found."

Anger was hot and red and futile, but it engulfed him. He wanted to scream and stamp his foot and yell at the heavens and demand his children back.

"I can offer you something though," the man said slowly.

"What?"

"Scully."

Mulder frowned, stamping on his anger. "You lied," he said. "You said the chip was what we needed, but the cancer's back."

"Not my doing," was the denial. "The incident with the rebels last year was more than just a demonstration of power against us. Those who survived the run-in had their chips damaged by the technology. Scully's chip was malfunctioning; that's why the cancer came back."

"Why damage the chip?" Mulder demanded.

"Part of their strike against us. I have another chip, Mulder. You can still save her." Out of his pocket he pulled a familiar little tube, rolling it slowly between his fingers.

"What do you want in return?" Mulder asked slowly, staring at the small tube.

"You abandon your search."

"For what?"

"Everything. You resign your post at the FBI if they don't discharge you. You abandon your search for your sister, your children, the truth you're trying so hard to find. That last stunt of yours – stealing the child – you've cost us dearly, Mulder, and now it's time for you to pay your share."

Mulder stared at the vial, his mouth dry. "You want me to give up everything," he whispered.

The man smiled. "If you don't, that chip won't work. I promise you that."

"How do I know it will work?"

"If it doesn't, what reason would you have to stay away? You'd have nothing to lose."

The chips were out – literally, Mulder thought with a touch of bitter humour – and the stakes had been raised. Was he willing to meet them? Was he willing to give everything up, to just walk away? He stared at the small tube in the man's fingers, mesmerised by the soft glow of the metal.

When the man spoke, his words were quiet and measured. "Is she worth it, Mulder?"


	17. Chapter 17

**17.**

* * *

_In my fields of paper flowers  
__And candy clouds of lullaby  
__I lie inside myself for hours  
__And watch my purple sky fly over me_

* * *

Her body felt light, as though it were floating, but her mind was heavy, dragging her down through the greyness and plunging her toward the ground with a terrifying speed that jarred her awake. She gasped, opening her eyes and flinching at the brightness.

"Oh, Dana, sweetheart!" her mother whispered, her weathered face close to Scully's

Scully frowned, staring. "Mom?"

"It's me, sweetheart," she said softly. "How are you feeling?"

Scully frowned, trying to remember what had happened. Why she was here. "I'm okay," she murmured, closing her eyes. Her head hurt and her eyes ached, but she was fine. Exhausted, but fine. "What happened?"

"Don't you remember?" her Mom asked, stroking her forehead.

"I remember running," Scully said slowly, "with Adam. And then Krycek… Where's Mulder?" she demanded. "And Adam? I need to see Adam!"

"Shhh, Dana, it's okay," her mother murmured softly.

"No," Scully moaned, trying to fight the heaviness in her eyelids. "No, I need to see them, Mom."

"Soon," her mother promised, and then the darkness claimed her again, thick and warm and light.

* * *

Mulder was there, she thought dreamily, holding her hand and rubbing her fingers.

"Hey, Scully," he said softly. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, concerned at the bruises on his cheek and the sling she glimpsed.

"Hey yourself," she whispered.

"You feeling better?" he asked hopefully.

She sighed, relaxing. "Yes, actually," she admitted. "I… What happened, Mulder?" she asked.

"We washed up on shore, Scully, and the fire fighters found us."

"Where's Adam?" she asked. His fingers tightened on hers almost imperceptibly, but she felt it. "Don't," she whispered, closing her eyes. "Don't tell me Krycek…"

"We can't find them, Scully. We can't find them anywhere. Skinner's been following every lead and every possibility, but there's nothing."

She uncurled her fingers from his, thrusting them under her sheets and twisting her body away from his. Her baby. He'd stolen her baby.

"Scully," Mulder said.

"I want to sleep now, Mulder," she said stiffly, waiting for him to leave.

He didn't leave though; his hand clasping her arm and forcing her back onto her back. "No, Scully," he said firmly. "No, you're not going to do this alone."

"I'm not doing anything," she said angrily, struggling against him. But she was too weak and too tired and she was dying inside. "Just let me sleep."

His mouth was a tight line of grief and fear, she realised. "Okay," he relented. But instead of leaving her like she expected him to, he pulled the covers back from her and sat himself on the bed next to her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Sleeping," he responded, easing himself down. He winced as he moved his arm – she guessed he'd dislocated it when they hit the water – and settled himself next to her on the narrow bed, pulling her close.

"You can't sleep here, Mulder," she said.

"Why not?"

Why not? Because she wanted to be alone. She wanted to mourn for her child alone. To feel the anger and grief and-

"We're going to find him, Mulder," she said suddenly.

His arm tightened around her waist and he buried his nose in her hair. "No, we're not going to, Scully," he said simply.

"You're just giving up?" she demanded. "After a few days, you're giving up?"

"It's been two weeks, Scully, and yes, I'm giving up."

"You, the man who searched for your sister for over twenty years, are giving up on your son after two weeks?"

"Yes," he said again. "I have to, Scully."

"Why?" she demanded.

She could see the emotions warring in his eyes as he looked at her, feel the grief in his fingers as he pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and traced the line of her jaw. "Because I made a deal to save you," he admitted, closing his eyes. "I had to choose, Scully. You or Adam. And I chose you."

She wished he hadn't told her.

"Go," she said stiffly.

"Scully, I-"

"I want you to go, Mulder," she said quietly, fighting for control. "Please."

He pressed a kiss against her cheek and touched her lips with his fingers, nodded, and climbed out of her bed, leaving her alone in her room with only the monitors for company.

Scully stared up at the roof and waited to die.

* * *

Scully glared at her mother. "Mom," she said tiredly, "just leave it alone."

"No," her mother said firmly. "I won't. I've been leaving it, Dana, and I'm watching you get worse and worse. Skinner and Fox told me what happened. About your son-"

"I don't want to talk about it, Mom!" Scully snapped angrily. "Don't you understand that? I don't want to talk about it!"

Her mother bit on her lip, running a quick hand through her greying hair. "At least talk to Fox. For goodness sake, Dana, he's lost his son too!"

Scully stared at her mother. "He let him go, Mom," she whispered. "He gave him up."

Her mother's arms were strong and comforting as they wrapped around Scully, and for the first time since she woke, Scully let herself lean into her mother's embrace and relax, accepting the comfort she was offered.

"What would you have done? If you had to choose between Fox and your son, who would you have chosen?"

Scully flinched at the question, closing her eyes and burying her face against her mother. "I can't make that choice," she whispered softly.

"But Fox had to make it," her mother said gently. "And don't think he's taking his decision lightly. He could either lose you, and risk not finding your son despite searching; or he could choose you and have one certainty."

She pushed her mother away. "You believe him about the chip and the cancer and my abduction?" she asked softly.

"You're sitting here, getting better for the second time because of a chip he procured for you. How could I not believe?" was the whispered response.

Scully nodded, her eyes stinging with tears.

"Get some sleep now, Dana, and when you wake up I want you to talk to Fox."

"Okay," Scully agreed. "Thanks, Mom."

Her mother smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "And," she added conversationally, "this means I don't have to worry about you as much."

"Why?" Scully asked.

"When you get married you'll want to spend more time at home and less time putting yourself in danger."


	18. Chapter 18

**18.**

Mulder fingered the paper in his pocket, reassuring himself that it was there as he walked up the hallway to Scully's room. He paused in the doorway and watched her for a few minutes, waiting for her to hear his heart thundering in his chest and turn to see him.

She didn't hear him though, so he cleared his throat to let her know he was there.

"Mulder," she said softly when she turned around and faced him.

"Hi Scully," he said, equally soft, watching carefully.

"Come on in," she said casually, moving a hand and motioning at the plastic chairs. "Take a seat."

He did as she requested silently, his eyes never leaving hers as she moved gracefully across the floor and climbed up onto her bed, crossing her legs beneath her and meeting his gaze with a calm, steady expression.

"I owe you an apology," she said softly, lifting her hand to silence him when he opened his mouth to protest. "No, hear me out," she requested. "I haven't treated you fairly since this started," she said. "Since before, actually. Even after Antarctica. I didn't see everything you saw there, Mulder, but I saw enough, and I still wouldn't believe.

When… when this started, I didn't talk to you. I didn't tell you what had been given to me. Instead, I ditched you and ran off, determined to solve it by myself and end it. I told myself I didn't need you, but the truth was I was scared, Mulder. I was scared of how I'd react, and I didn't want you to see me if I… if…" she struggled with the words.

"Cracked?" he suggested warily.

A slight smile tugged at her lips. "That's adequate," she agreed. "I didn't want to break in front of you, Mulder," she whispered.

"Sometimes, Scully, I wish you would," he said honestly.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Why?"

He shifted on his seat, shrugging. "I cry in front of you often enough," he said evasively.

"Did you mean what you said?" she asked suddenly.

"When?"

"When you said you loved me." The uncertainty and shyness on her voice was a novelty, he thought, watching as she stared at the bed beneath her and twisted her fingers together.

"Yes," he said simply. "You know I do."

When she looked back up at him, her eyes were glittering with tears. "I don't hate you," she whispered. "I thought I did, but I don't."

"I'd understand if you did hate me," he said quietly. "I just… I couldn't lose you, Scully. And we both knew he was never ours in the first place."

She flinched at the words, her eyes turning angry as she looked at him. "You're wrong, Mulder. He was ours. He was always ours."

Mulder dropped his head into his hands, rubbing at his temples with his fingers. "I'm sorry, Scully," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

He didn't hear her footsteps as she walked toward him, so when her arms wrapped around him and she pulled him close to her he was surprised. "Me too," she murmured into his hair. "I'm sorry for running from you when I get scared. I'm sorry for making you choose, and blaming you for the decision. I'm sorry for pushing you away. I'm sorry, Mulder," she whispered against his cheek.

Her cheek was damp and salty against his lips, and he kissed her tears away, tangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her down onto his lap. "I love you, Scully," he whispered against her eyelids. She sighed, kissing his cheek and burying her face against his neck, still holding him close to her.

"What do we do now?" she asked uncertainly, her voice muffled against his skin.

"Your mother was making some serious noises about marriage," he said hesitantly, not letting go.

She pulled back, staring at him intently.

"What?" he asked.

"You want to get married?"

"Why not?" he asked defensively.

"I never thought of you as the marrying type," she said.

"Well, will you?" he demanded impatiently.

"It's too soon now, Mulder," she said. "I'm sorry."

"You've said sorry enough," he said gently. "It's over now, Scully. Now it's just you and me and…"

"And?" she asked, frowning.

He let go of her with on hand, digging into his pocket with the other and finding the letter there. "I got this in the mail a few days ago," he said. "And… I didn't want to say anything because I didn't think the time was right."

"What is it, Mulder?" she asked.

"Read it."

She took the envelope from him, her eyes flicking to meet his when she read the address on it. She turned it over, but there wasn't a return address on it. She reached in and pulled out the note, reading the messily scrawled address curiously before looking at him.

"What does it mean?"

"The other children are still out there, Scully," Mulder said. "Two others, Krycek said. That address is a social services office in San Diego. I called them; there aren't any children there at the moment, but if we keep an eye out…"

She stared at him, uncomprehending.

"We're not allowed to look for them, Scully," he said gently, "but what if someone else is looking for us?"

"I… Mulder?"

"I don't know who sent it, Scully," he said.

"The Smoking man?" Scully asked.

"No, I don't think so," Mulder said, shaking his head. "Whoever it was also sent this."

He pulled the photograph from his pocket and handed it to her, watching her eyes widen as she traced the image. "Adam," she whispered softly.

Mulder looked down at the photo, waiting.

"There is something I don't understand, Mulder."

"What?"

"They kept the embryos because they hoped there would be immunity – and there was. Why was Krycek so determined for us to have Adam and to keep him from the Rebels, and then he ended up giving Adam to the Rebels?"

"I think we were his smokescreen," Mulder said quietly. "With Spender thinking we had taken Adam, he wasn't paying attention to Krycek, who was the real threat. Krycek knew there was no real way for us to keep Adam, so he was safe passing him off to us for 'safe keeping' until he was ready to expose himself."

Scully stared down at the photograph and swallowed. "Mulder, it's too soon," she said.

"It's okay, Scully," he said gently. "As long as we're okay, I don't care what we do."

She smiled and gave him back the photograph, climbing out of his lap. "Maybe one day, Mulder," she said, "but not now."

"What about the murder investigation?" she asked.

"New evidence came to light," Mulder said dryly. "I'm clear."

A bitter smile tugged at her lips, and he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear because he could. He could touch her. He smiled at her, and watched as the bitterness turned to tenderness. "I think that something good may have come from this," she said gently.

He nodded in agreement, watching her as she turned and headed toward a cupboard. "What are you doing now?"

"I'm going to pack my stuff, Mulder, and then we're going home."

"Home?" he asked.

"Home," she repeated firmly. "And while I'm packing, you can get me a coffee."

"I don't think your doctor's going to approve of that," Mulder said amiably.

"Probably not," she agreed, "but I'm fine, Mulder. There's nothing wrong with me." He caught the glint in her eyes just before he walked out of her room. "When we get home, I'll prove it to you."

* * *

FIN!

* * *

**Extra Notes**

**IVF: **Yes, I played with this significantly. Several people have voiced 'disagreements' or 'comments' with my decision to base the IVF just before the episode "Christmas Carol" & "Emily", but in Per Manum, Mulder gave Scully the ova right after she told him she was infertile – and she told her mother in the Emily episodes she had just found out and had no chance, so I figured the timing works there a lot better than later on during the seasons.

**Song:** Imaginary by Evanescence. Stolen and used shamelessly without permission.

**Last Ramble: **First of all, MAJOR thank you to Oracle, Kasuchi and Ev for the beta's, comments and encouragement. Oracle especially for reading the original version (which is VASTLY different from the final version) and Ev for her endless patience and support. And Kas for doing the beta, just for me :) These are all fantastic ladies with amazing writing skills, and I'm very very honoured that they'd beta for me. All mistakes are my own, and doubtlessly because I ignored their advise and corrections :)

smooch

I started writing this fic October last year (I think), and had the first version finished at the beginning of November. Real Life interfered though, and writing of all sorts got shelved, which is why this has taken so long to get out. Not to mention the rewriting and dusting and tidying up which had to be done. It was a big project, and for once I feel quite proud of myself!

Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read this and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And if you've gotten through all of these Notes, then extra kudos to you! And you know, sending me feedback just earns you extra cookies ;) Seriously - any comments, constructive criticism (or, you know, praise) would be absolutely adored, because I'm egotistical and like to think people actually read my stuff ;)


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